


Invisible Scars

by Moit



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, Homophobic Language, M/M, Medical Examination, Mindfuck, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-08 06:20:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6842365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moit/pseuds/Moit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the unthinkable happens to Zach one weekend, Chris tries to put back the pieces. The only problem is that some wounds can't be seen, which makes them even harder to fix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Um. So I wrote this. It's exactly what you think it is, but I've tried to focus on Zach's state of mind as he's going through this. The vast majority is going to be on Zach's road to recovery and the ups and downs he faces with Chris along the way.
> 
> If you're hesitant to read chapter 1, you **100% can skip it** and head straight to a trigger-free chapter 2. 
> 
> I'm eternally grateful to my betas, [infiniteworld8](http://archiveofourown.org/users/infiniteworld8/pseuds/infiniteworld8) and [1lostone](http://archiveofourown.org/users/1lostone/pseuds/1lostone). I 100% would have given up on this idea had it not been for them.

_ Come to the bar _ .

A moment later, his phone buzzed.  _ Can’t. I’m with Amanda this weekend. _

“Of course you are.” He slid his phone back into his pocket. 

“Is he coming?” John asked. 

“No.” Zach’s response came out in a sigh and he pushed his glasses up his nose. “He’s with  _ Amanda _ .” He said her name like it had personally offended him. In some ways, it had. He and Chris used to be thick as thieves--two peas in a pod. These days, Zach was lucky if he got to see Chris once a week. 

“I thought he was seeing some girl named Chelsea.” 

“I can’t keep track of them, anymore. Those girls practically throw their panties at him during premieres.” 

Taking another swig of beer, Zach allowed his eyes to roam the room. He’d been hoping Chris would be up for another night of casual sex, but since that was out of the question, he figured he might as well turn his attention to someone presently available. 

There was a guy by the bar who had been cruising him most the night. Zach usually didn’t go for redheads, but he was cute enough. 

John followed his line of sight. “Oh, no.” 

“What?” Zach’s attention snapped back to his friend. 

“You’re gonna go hit on someone, aren’t you?” 

Zach opened his mouth to deny it, but John was already reaching for his coat. “You don’t have to explain yourself. If it wasn’t him, it would be Chris. Do you need a ride or are you gonna take a cab home?” 

“I’ll probably just walk. It’s a nice night, and it’s not that far.” On foot, it was only about fifteen minutes back to Silver Lake. 

“All right.” John gave him a hug and clapped him on the back. “Take care of yourself. And give me a call if you need a ride.” 

With a final wave, John was gone, and Zach turned his attention to the redhead lurking by the bar. He was shorter than Zach by several inches, and his high cheekbones gave him the appearance of being younger than he probably was. 

“Hey,” Zach said, sidling up next to him. This close, he could smell the other man’s cologne, spicy and masculine. His dick perked up with interest. “I’m Zach.” 

“Evan.” His smile revealed a dimple in his left cheek, and Zach could see a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. He also had a faint scar near his hairline that could have been from a childhood accident. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.” 

Evan ordered them both a beer and handed over one sweating bottle. 

“Thanks. And what do you do for a living?”

“I’m an actor,” he replied like it was obvious, and Zach fought the urge to recoil in surprise. He took a long drink of his beer instead. “How about you?” 

“I’m an,” he paused, realising that he neither wanted to reveal himself to this stranger, nor did he want to have a conversation about actors and acting in a Los Angeles bar, “accountant.” Even as the word came out of his mouth, Zach didn’t believe it, but Evan just kept on smiling. 

“That doesn’t sound very exciting.” 

“Tell me about it.” Zach faked a sigh. He could make this guy believe that he was one of those 9 to 5 businessmen who liked to cut loose on the weekends. This was just a hook-up. It’s not like he would see this guy again. 

Leaning closer, Evan said, “You wanna go someplace more quiet?”

“Sure.” After a quick fuck, he could head home and sleep this all off. He must have drank more than he thought because he was already feeling tipsy. Glancing down at his beer, he shrugged and took another swallow. Maybe he could drink Chris’s name out of his mind. If that didn’t work, he could try fucking it out. 

Evan took Zach’s hand in his own pale one and led him through the crowd. Zach took the opportunity to admire Evan’s broad back, narrow waist, and tight ass twitching underneath the fabric of his grey hipster trousers. He couldn’t wait to sink balls-deep into that.

But when they passed the bathroom and headed for the back door of the bar, Zach stalled his steps. Fucking in an alley was hardly his preference. 

“What’s the matter?” Evan asked. His clear blue eyes searched Zach’s face. _They’re wrong_ , Zach thought, _They should be Bombay Sapphire_ _not this watered down version._ “It’s quiet out there.” 

The logic seemed sound in Zach’s foggy brain, and against his better judgement, he went. 

The alley was so dimly lit, it took a minute for Zach’s eyes to adjust. He could smell the dumpster just a few feet away, and it made his stomach turn. 

“Are you sure you want to do this  _ here _ ?” The graffitied walls and water-filled potholes were doing little to fan his arousal, but his dick made a valiant effort to throb against the back of his zipper. Zach gave himself a quick squeeze. The alcohol he’d consumed earlier hadn’t had much of an affect on his dick, thankfully. 

“Come on,” Evan said, tugging him far enough out the door that it slammed shut behind them. 

Zach jumped in surprise. 

“I’m not going to bite. Hard.” 

Pulling Zach further into the shadow cast by the balcony of a fire escape above them, Evan sank to his knees. With skillful fingers, he unbuttoned and unzipped Zach’s jeans. Zach had put his hand against the brick wall to steady himself as Evan tugged them down.  

“Geez, how do you get into these things? Butter?” 

“Baby oil.” Zach allowed his eyelids to flutter shut as Evan’s mouth closed around the head of his cock. He felt faintly floaty, and the alcohol softened the rough edges of getting a blowjob in an alley. 

He never saw the hand clap over his mouth. 

Zach’s terror-filled eyes locked with Evan’s, but as Evan stood with a horrible grin on his face, Zach quickly realized the man would be no help. His cock was left to swing in the breeze of the night air. His erection had already wilted significantly. 

Zach cried out against the hand that held him and attempted to twist out of his captor’s grip. “What the fuck, man?” 

“Shh,” a voice whispered in his ear. “If you’re good and don’t struggle, I won’t have to cut that pretty little moneymaker of yours.” The cold chill of a knife pressed into his jaw. Zach froze, and his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest.  _ Please let me get out of this alive _ . 

His eyes filled with tears. Zach forced himself to stay still, even as someone ripped his glasses off his face and threw them to the ground. His vision was reduced to a blur. 

“This is how it’s gonna go: you’re going to do everything we ask. You’re gonna smile at the camera, say what we want you to say, and if you’re good, we’ll let you go.” Through the the haze of alcohol and desperation, Zach’s eyes focused enough for him to realize that Evan was holding a cell phone in front of his face. 

“First,” the voice continued. “You’re gonna beg my friend to suck his dick.” 

Zach blinked and the tears fell over his cheeks. He nodded as furiously as he could. 

“On your knees, fag.” 

The slur stung, but the hand left his mouth only to twist painfully in his hair. With his jeans tangled around his thighs, Zach awkwardly lowered himself to his knees in front of Evan. He was too terrified to ask what would happen if he fought. He kept thinking that they would shoot him, kept praying that they’d let him live. Or maybe, maybe if the guy let go of him, he could try to run. 

But the knife followed him down. Zach heard the gravel crunch as the man crouched behind him so he could keep the knife pressed against the side of Zach’s neck. 

“Ask him.” 

Zach closed his eyes and licked his lips. He could do this. He was an actor. He did this for a living. He just had to tell himself that he was reciting lines. “Please . . . ” He blew out a breath. “Please let me suck your dick.”

“I don’t believe him,” Evan said. Inexplicably, Zach felt betrayed. Not only had this man cruised him and played him, but now it was obvious that Zach had no allies here. 

Knowing he was losing ground, Zach dialed it up. He reached out to clutch Evan’s trousers and tilted his chin up. Though he couldn’t see their faces, he knew what he would look like. “ _ Please _ , Evan,” he said, his voice low and throaty as he drew out the words, “Please, baby, let me suck your dick.” 

“Well,” Evan said, “since you asked so nicely, I’ll even let you take it out.”

Zach couldn’t hide how badly his hands shook as he unbuttoned and unzipped Evan’s trousers, but he quickly realized the other man wasn’t even hard. The look on his face must have been one of question because Evan said, “Go ahead, fag, get me hard. I’m not the one who gets off on staring at other dudes’ junk.”  

Reaching into the fly, Zach pulled out a cock that looked like it could have belonged to any of the men he’d been with in his life. Evan’s dick was of average size, and he had a clutch of orange pubic hair at the base. Zach’s traitorous mind whispered  _ Fire crotch _ , and he had to resist the urge to laugh at the sheer absurdity of the thought. Moments ago, he had been willing to let some stranger suck his dick, and now he was terrified that he’d contract herpes or something from this guy. He forced himself not to think about catching anything worse. 

Zach squeezed his eyes shut as he opened his mouth. Evan began to firm up once Zach got him inside his mouth. He was one of those guys who produced copious amounts of precum, and the consistency made Zach’s stomach recoil. Fighting the urge to puke, he forced himself to swallow what he could around Evan’s dick so he didn’t choke.  _ It’s just a blowjob _ , he told himself.  _ Just suck his dick, and maybe they’ll let you go _ . 

As Evan grew harder, he also grew bolder. He began thrusting deeper into Zach’s mouth. It didn’t help Zach any; it just made it more obvious that he was not the one in control here, and he felt more tears sting his eyes as the head of Evan’s dick punched painfully at the back of his throat. 

After a few minutes, the man behind him said, “That’s good.”

Abruptly, Evan pulled out his cock. Zach was left to spit and gag on the concrete. He wanted it out of his mouth, he wanted it out of his body. Every trace of the violation needed to be gone, but he couldn’t make himself puke. His mind raced.  _ Thank fuck. Please, just go. Leave me alone. I did what you wanted.  _

But they weren’t done.

Someone hauled him up and spun him around so fast he was afraid he might actually vomit. They pushed him against the wall and ground his cheek into the brick of the building. A shrill cry left his throat as someone pried his asscheeks apart. 

_ Oh, God, no, not this. Please not--anything--no please. Please don’t do this.  _

He tried to beg. Things like this did not happen to people like him. Guys who lived in small, Midwestern towns, not well-known Hollywood actors in Blockbuster sci-fi movies, got raped in alleys. 

Zach heard the man spit, and then something slick was being rubbed into his asscrack. 

He lost his mind. 

Taking the biggest breath he could manage, Zach screamed “HELP ME!” at the top of his lungs. Two sets of hands clamped over his mouth and cut off his breath for a few seconds. He twisted and fought them like a wildcat. 

Something fell to the ground--the cellphone, Zach assumed, from the glow--but it wasn’t enough to distract them. 

The knife made a reappearance, and Zach went limp against the arms that held him. Though his lungs felt like they were about to burst, he kept his cheek against the bricks. His hands clenched into fists at his sides so tense that they hurt from the effort. 

“You try anything like that again, and I will slit your fucking throat. Do you understand me?” 

Zach nodded furiously. The hands left his mouth and he could breathe again. Grateful, he took big gulps of air. It just made him feel more lightheaded.

He followed the glow of the cellphone as one of the men picked it up and shined it in Zach’s face. He winced against the glare of the light.  

“Tell me you want me to fuck you, Zach.” 

“I want you to fuck me,” he said, but his voice was dead. He’d given up, lost the fight. They were going to do what they wanted to him, and there was nothing he could do. 

Had it not been for the hands holding him, Zach would have hit the floor when the man behind him slammed into him. It took a few tries before the man was balls-deep because there wasn’t much for lubrication. It burned worse than anything Zach had ever felt. Not even his first time had hurt this bad. He shouted out, and someone stuffed a bit of cloth into his mouth. The tears were flowing freely, now. Every thrust made his knees shake, and every time the man slid out, it dragged Zach’s skin with it. He felt raw. 

He felt like an eternity until the man came inside him with a low grunt in Zach’s ear. It burned like he’d just been filled with battery acid.

The man pulled out a final time, and Zach drew in a long, shuddering breath. He didn’t dare move.    

He took a blow to the back of his head and then there was nothing.   
  


Zach woke up with a blinding headache. Everything hurt. Trying to concentrate on getting upright without puking, he managed to wrench his jeans up over his hips and check the pockets. Miraculously, they hadn’t rolled him. His phone and wallet--complete with driver’s license and cash--had been left behind. 

Zach propped himself up against the wall and scrolled through his phone with a shaking hand. Who should he call? The cops? 911? John? Chris? No, fuck Chris. 

He didn’t want to call a cab because that meant staying at the club. He just wanted to be safe--at home.

The trip took twice as long as usual because every step hurt, but Zach finally managed to stumble through the door of his house. Ready for a walk, Noah greeted him eagerly.

“Not right now, Buddy,” Zach said as he limped to the back door. 

With his dog momentarily distracted, Zach made his way to the bathroom. Boots, jackets, jeans, shirt, and boxers landed in a pile to be burnt later. The boots had been a pair of his favourites, too. 

When the water in the shower was hot enough to scald, Zach stepped into the spray. He scrubbed at his skin until he felt like he was bleeding all over, and still, he couldn’t get clean enough. Pink-tinged soap swirled around the drain, and Zach knew he really  _ was _ bleeding. As gingerly as he could, he reached back and felt his hole. He hissed in pain. Soap stung like a bitch, but he had to get clean or he risked infection. 

He stepped out of the shower to the sound of Noah barking to come back inside. After slipping on a pair of sweatpants, Zach opened the door. He stood there for a moment and listened to the insects and passing cars--sounds of the night. He couldn’t believe that the world was  _ existing _ while he stood there  _ like this _ . He couldn’t say the word, couldn’t even think it. 

Behind him, Noah whuffed softly. He thumped his tail a couple times to indicate that he was ready for a treat.

Zach closed the door. He dug a biscuit out of the treat jar and handed it over. Noah took it and trotted away like his master wasn’t suffering the biggest crisis of his life. 

*

The weekend with Amanda didn’t turn out to be nearly as  _ pleasurable _ as Chris had anticipated. She talked nonstop about her friends and her car and her shoes, and she wouldn’t even suck his dick.

“I don’t really give blowjobs,” she had said. 

Chris wished he had known  _ that _ before spending nearly 20 minutes eating her out. His jaw was still sore. 

Going north had been a bad idea. Beers with Zach and John would have been a much better option. Plus, Zach  _ definitely _ gave blowjobs--good ones, at that. 

Pulling out his phone, Chris thumbed a quick text. 

_ I hope your weekend was better than mine _ . 

A few minutes later, his phone buzzed.  _ Don’t fucking patronize me _

Chris’s eyebrows shot up. Zach’s weekend must have been worse than Chris’s to net him a reply like that. He tried to call, but Zach sent him to voicemail after the second ring. 

“Seriously, what did I do?” he wondered aloud. 

He typed out a text to John.  _ Hey, do you know what’s up with Zach? He’s acting like I ran over Noah. _

_ Seriously? U don’t no? _

_ Know what? _

Chris was growing frustrated. They weren’t a group of teenage girls. Why couldn’t someone just tell him what was going on?

_ Google his name _

Now  _ that _ was weird, especially from John. But rather than text back  _ Seriously?? _ Chris switched to his Internet browser and typed in Zach’s name. He had been expecting something along the lines of pap photos of Zach walking the dog in his underwear or something. Zach kept to himself, and he definitely kept himself out of the public eye. 

The page loaded, and as Chris skimmed the results, he almost couldn’t believe what he was reading. 

_ Zachary Quinto Raped on Camera _

“What the fuck?” It had to be a joke, or some kind of hoax. 

Fingers trembling, Chris clicked on the link and waited for the video to buffer. He had to be sure. Had to  _ know _ . 

It was clearly a cellphone video. At first, there was no image, just harsh breathing and the obvious slap of two people fucking. Nice try, but anyone could shoot amateur porn. 

Then a face appeared on the screen. The image got clearer as the operator moved closer. It was definitely Zach, and Chris could see the tears rolling down his cheeks.

_ If you’re good and don’t struggle, I won’t have to cut that pretty little moneymaker of yours. _

Like driving past a car accident, Chris watched every agonizing detail. His stomach clenched when the screen went blank for a moment, the sound of a scuffle, and Zach’s desperate cry for help. When the video resumed, it showed Zach’s cheek pressed against a brick wall now. Every so often, the one holding the phone to get a shot of the action. Chris felt nauseous. 

Finally, the man pulled out. Zach stood against the wall, jeans around his knees, back heaving with the effort of his breaths. 

The man who had been raping him picked up what looked like a crowbar and cracked Zach over the back of the head. Zach crumbled to the ground like a sack of potatoes and the video cut off abruptly. 

Chris dropped his phone and ran for the bathroom. He hardly made it to the toilet before he lost his breakfast. 

 

Zach didn’t answer when Chris tried to call again. 

_ Zach, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Are you okay? _

_ Still breathing _

_ Can I come over? _

Radio silence wasn’t a no, and Zach was the closest thing Chris had to a best friend. Rounding up his keys and sunglasses, he got back in the car. Hopefully, Zach would at least let him in the gate.  

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris pulled away and wiped his own damp eyes with two fingers. He used the edge of the sheet to mop at Zach’s devastated face. To Chris’s eyes, he still looked heart-stopping beautiful. “I can never tell you how sorry I am, Zach.” His voice was gravel-rough. “The only thing I want to do is go back in time so I can go to the bar and take you home, but I can’t. I can’t, Zach, and it’s killing me.” He blinked, and a few more tears escaped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read and left comments and kudos on chapter one. I seriously wasn't sure if I would get any readers for this, so you have my eternal gratitude. 
> 
> If you were trying to skip chapter 1, you've come to the right place. Nothing triggery here, but there is a somewhat uncomfortable exam towards the end of the chapter. I will be adding tags as they become relevant. 
> 
> Once again eternal gratitude to my betas--you guys are the fucking best for putting up with me. <3
> 
> Enjoy!

When he pulled up to Zach’s house, Chris had to fight through a crowd of paparazzi just to get to the gate. The code, thankfully, was still the same. Chris got out of his car to make sure the iron gate latched securely behind him. 

He let himself in the front door with his key and was immediately greeted by an excited Noah. 

“Hey, boy.” Chris squatted down to scratch behind Noah’s ears. “Where’s your dad, huh? Where’s Dad?” 

Noah rolled over, and Chris obligingly rubbed his belly. Earlier than Noah would have liked, though, Chris stood up. 

“Zach?” he called. “It’s me, Chris.” 

Hopping up, Noah trotted into the bedroom. 

Chris followed in bare feet after slipping out of his Espadrilles. “Zach?” 

The bedroom was dark. The curtains had been drawn, and only a small sliver of light cut across the darkness. Noah jumped onto the bed and justled the lump under the blankets. 

“Zach?” Chris said again. For a minute, he was afraid Zach wasn’t breathing. 

“You shouldn’t have come.” His voice was raw, wrecked. He sounded like he’d just smoked two packs of cigarettes. 

Chris buried his hands in his pockets. “You’re my best friend. Of course I’m here.” 

Suddenly, Zach threw the blankets off and sat up. The skin around his brown eyes red and puffy, his eyes were wild and fierce. With his disheveled hair and unshaven cheeks, he looked like he’d been in bed crying for days. He probably had been. Chris didn’t miss the scab on his cheekbone. “You’re here?” Zach’s eyebrows raised in a way that Chris could only assume was incredulity. “You’re _here_ , Chris?” 

Chris rocked back on his heels. Maybe he shouldn’t have come. 

“Well, isn’t that _thoughtful_.” Zach spit the words like they were tiny grenades set to explode on Chris’s skin. “Maybe, if you were _thinking_ , you could have been at the fucking _bar_ on Friday night!” He picked up the only thing within reach--his cellphone--and chucked it at the wall over Chris’s head. It made contact with a dull _clack_ and fell to the floor. 

Startled, Noah jumped off the bed, but Zach kept going. 

“Maybe then I wouldn’t have been r--” The word died on his lips. 

At the look on Zach’s face, Chris took a jerky step forward. He could only watch as Zach started to take in quick, shallow breaths. 

Zach’s dark eyes filled with tears. One blink and they spilled over his cheeks. 

Chris closed the distance between them in two steps. His arms linked around Zach’s shoulders as the tears morphed into full-scale sobs. 

At first, Zach froze. His hands tightened around Chris’s arms like he wanted to push them away, but he gave in and buried his face in his friend’s shoulder.

As Zach released his pain, Chris just held him tighter. Unbidden, the tears came to his own eyes. He couldn’t possibly understand what Zach was feeling, but he could try to show some empathy. 

_I’m so fucking sorry_ , Chris thought, _I should have been there._

How many times had they gone to the bar and left together? Chris couldn’t even count. It was their _thing_. Letting Zach down like this was practically like handing him over to those . . . _men_ , if they could even be called such.

Crying, they sat together until Zach’s sobs subsided. At some point, they’d slid sideways so that they were lying together but still wrapped around one another. 

Chris pulled away and wiped his own damp eyes with two fingers. He used the edge of the sheet to mop at Zach’s devastated face. To Chris’s eyes, he still looked heart-stopping beautiful. “I can never tell you how sorry I am, Zach.” His voice was gravel-rough. “The only thing I want to do is go back in time so I can go to the bar and take you home, but I can’t. I can’t, Zach, and it’s killing me.” He blinked, and a few more tears escaped. 

“Killing you?” Zach gave a mirthless laugh. “Yeah, it must be real hard on you.” He drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “I think they slipped me something. God, I was so fucked up, Chris. I couldn’t even think straight.” He pulled at his hair like doing so would shake the answers loose from his mind.

“Have you . . . “ Chris licked his lips. “Have you eaten anything?” 

Gaze fixed on the mattress between them, Zach shook his head. “I went to bed . . . it would have been Saturday morning . . . and I’ve only been up a few times. To get a glass of water, pee, let Noah out. I haven’t even--my clothes are still in the bathroom.” 

“One thing at a time, right?” Chris said. A thousand questions swirled in his mind. It would only hurt Zach if Chris took this too quickly. “How about we get some food in you?” He forced himself not to wince at the poor choice of words. 

Luckily, Zach didn’t seem to notice. 

“Can you help me find a pair of glasses first? My others . . . I--they--I lost them.” 

Chris’s stomach clenched. “Sure.” 

*

In his semi rimless glasses--the ones he didn’t favor as much--Zach settled carefully on a bar stool in the kitchen. Every movement hurt, and if he shifted the wrong way, it sent spasms up pain all the way up his spine.

He sat quietly as Chris threw together something to eat. 

Chris found boxed pasta in the cabinet. While that was boiling, he chopped some sad-looking tomatoes and lettuce for a salad. It wasn’t much, but Zach appreciated the effort. 

Yesterday, he’d wanted to die. Wished fervently for death to take him. Today, his stomach growled as he watched Chris strain pasta and toss it with some butter, salt, and pepper. Greedy, he pulled the bowl toward himself so he could dig in with gusto. He refused to let himself think about how much it hurt to swallow.

“This is the best thing I’ve had in _days_ ,” Zach said between mouthfuls. The last thing he remembered eating was a banana right before he left for the bar. Of course, that, along with the beer he drank, ended up undigested in the toilet. 

Zach finished both the salad and the pasta. He resisted the urge to lick the bowls. 

Smiling, Chris leaned against the counter. “Still hungry? I can make you something else.” 

“Actually, I’d like to take a shower.” Yet, the thought of approaching the bathroom made him nauseous with anxiety. “Can you do me a favor first?” 

Chris nodded. “That’s why I’m here, right?” 

Zach stood up and carried his plates to the sink. He rinsed them off and set them in the dishwasher. Dimly, he hoped Chris didn’t notice how badly his hands shook. He opened the pantry and pulled out a big, black garbage bag that he handed to Chris. “There’s some clothes in there. Could you put them in this bag? Get rid of them for me? Please?” 

*

Chris hadn’t given a thought to the clothes Zach had been wearing, but now . . . knowing that Zach had planted himself in the kitchen Chris felt free to take his time in the name of unravelling the rest of the mystery of the night Zach had been raped. 

The clothes were piled in the corner of the bathroom where Zach had left them. On top were his socks and underwear. Chris shoved them into the bag without a second thought. He couldn’t bear to see if there was blood on the latter. Next were a pair of soft, well-worn skinny jeans and a blue patterned button-up. These items went into the bag with little concern. 

Chris’s hands paused as he lifted the leather jacket from the floor. He’d been with Zach when he’d bought it in Berlin. 

 

_They only had a few precious hours to wander about the city before they had to reconvene for more interviews. Chris had elected to explore KeDeWe, Berlin’s gargantuan answer to a department store, with Karl, Zach, and Zoe while the others went off in search of German beer._

_“I need a new leather jacket,” Zach said, fingering the sleeve of one._

_“Try it on,” Chris insisted._

_Zach looked at the price tag and frowned. “This is more than some people make in a year.”_

_“And how much did you make last year?” Chris lifted the jacket off the hanger. “Just try it on.”_

_Still frowning, Zach did. It fit snugly, but since it was leather, it would surely allow for a hoodie or one of Zach’s many scarves._

_He shrugged his shoulders to test the fit and pulled up the off-center zipper. “What do you guys think?”_

_Karl gave a low whistle, and Zoe said, “You look gorgeous, baby.”_

_Chris zipped the pocket over Zach’s left breast and patted it. “You could stash your condoms in there.”_

_“Why, so you have easy access?”_

_A smug smile on his face, Chris watched as Zach forked over his American Express card._

 

Chris came back to himself with a jerk. He held the jacket to his nose and inhaled deeply. Though faint, he could just make out the scent of Zach’s cologne. It twisted something in his gut that was both arousing and unpleasant.

Sliding the jacket into the garbage bag nearly caused Chris physical pain. 

The last item was a pair of boots. They were nothing special: black Blundstones with dark green shoelaces and a scuff on the left toe from Chris tripping over a curb and barely catching himself. He’d been looking for these boots for months. He imagined that if he looked in Zach’s closet, he’d find several more pairs of his shoes. 

With a sigh, Chris added those to the bag, too. 

*

Curled up on the couch with Noah, Zach bit his nails to the quick. 

Chris finally emerged from the bathroom, garbage back in hand. He gave a small smile as he passed the couch. 

When he heard the front door open, Zach pushed Noah away and escaped into the bathroom. Even the boots were gone, for which he was thankful. He had a feeling Chris realized they were his, but they were _gone_. Getting rid of those clothes was the singular thing Zach cared about. 

He shed his grimy pajamas and turned the shower on. 

Soaping up his hair felt like heaven, and he greedily inhaled the scent of his organic, fair trade shampoo. No regrets there as the scent of balsam filled the room. He shampooed twice just because it felt good before traded for the conditioner. 

His hand shook slightly as he reached for the loofah. The thought of scrubbing himself--touching himself--made him want to recoil in disgust. He couldn’t imagine that anyone else would want to touch those damaged goods, either. 

Water and suds cascaded down his skin as he rinsed the conditioner from his hair. He soaped himself quickly, perfunctorily, and left his ass for last. It still stung, just not as much as before. He didn’t notice any blood, which was a good sign. 

“Not like I’m going to be having sex for a looong, long time,” he muttered to himself. 

_“Tell me you want me to fuck you, Zach.”_

The sudden memory was visceral and frightening. He could feel the man’s humid breath on the back of his neck, the press of the knife. 

Gasping, Zach reached out and turned the shower knobs so that the water rained down on him in icy sheets. It helped to clear his mind as he got his breathing back under control. Teeth chattering, he shut the water off and stepped onto the rug. 

Afterwards, he dressed--in jeans and a t-shirt this time--and felt much more like himself, especially after he combed his hair and worked some product into it. He emerged from the bedroom to find Chris rolling around on the floor with a delighted Noah.

“Do you want to take him for a walk?” Zach asked. 

“Sure.” Chris rolled to his hand and knees and stood up. “Will you be okay while we’re gone?” 

Raising an eyebrow, Zach said, “I’m coming with you.” He slid on a pair of flip-flops and grabbed Noah’s leash out of the closet. 

Usually, Noah was very calm and obedient, but today he could hardly control his excitement at getting to go for a walk. 

“There’s, uh, reporters outside.” 

“So?” Zach leveled his gaze at Chris. He’d never let other people run his life before, and he wasn’t about to start now. Plus, he’d have to leave his house sometime. 

Wrapping Noah’s leash tightly around his hand, Zach opened the front door. The crowd in front of his house went crazy flashing cameras and shouting questions. 

_You can do this_ , Zach told himself. _They can’t hurt you if you just ignore them._

His primary concern was Noah, but the dog had weathered many an excited human. As always, he walked and heeled and sat on Zach’s command. And only Zach’s command. That alone gave him strength. Chris was right behind them, wearing a Dodgers hat and his tortoise shell Ray Bans. 

Like an army of three, they passed the protection of the gate and marched through the clutch of paparazzi. 

_Zach!_ they called. _Would you like to make a statement? Did you go to the police? Do you know your attacker?_

After following them for several blocks in the midday California sun, even the most ambitious of the cameramen dropped the chase. 

“They’ve probably gone back to your house,” Chris muttered. 

They walked a few more steps before a voice rang out. “Zach!”

Startled, he turned around to find two middle-aged women staring at them. 

“I told you it was him!” one hissed to the other as she jabbed her friend in the side. 

“And Captain Kirk!” her friend squealed.

At that moment, Zach wished more fervently than he ever had for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. He was either going to change his name or force himself to respond to something other than “Zach” or “Zachary.” Maybe he could start going by his middle name.

Noah, the traitor that he was, wagged his tails at the newcomers, an invitation to come forward. Zach resisted the urge to call his dog to heel. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chris grow preternaturally still. A quick glance told him that Chris could be moving very quickly to the loss of his temper. 

Trying to keep his tone as even as possible, Zach said, “Hi. Can I help you?” He knew he sounded bitchy, and while he usually tried to keep his attitude in check around fans, this was the worst possible time to be hounded. 

“I just loved you as Spock,” the bold one gushed.

“That’s great. Thanks.” Zach’s lips pressed into a line. “I’m actually trying to take my dog for a walk right now, though, so.”

The woman brandished her cellphone at him. “Could we snap a quick picture? Please?” 

Before Zach could answer, Chris wrapped a possessive hand around the hand that wasn’t holding Noah. “Sorry, but we’re kind of in a hurry.” 

Zach couldn’t even muster an apologetic shrug. He just allowed Chris to turn them around and continue on their walk. Come Hell or high water, he had to cultivate a sense of normalcy for himself. 

His skin burned when Chris let go, like the touch had seared him. He wanted to tell Chris not to do it again, but he wasn’t sure how a comment like that would be taken, especially after everything Chris had done for him today. 

He kept losing time. 

One minute he was shirking Chris’s touch, and the next they were waiting while Noah squatted in the grass. 

They turned around after Noah did his business. 

Dangling the baggie from two fingers, Zach asked, “Think I should throw this at them?” For a moment, he started to feel like his old self again, even though he knew he would never be the same. 

*

They got back to Zach’s house to find the crowd of photographers reassembled along the street. 

Chris stood protectively behind Zach as he keyed in the code to let them through the gate. Inside the house, Chris noticed that Zach’s hands were shaking again as he let Noah off the leash. 

“Hey.” Chris laid a hand atop one of Zach’s. “Are you doing okay?”

Zach forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “No. But I’m a great fucking actor, right?”

Chris’s heart shattered in his chest. He didn’t want to ask the next question, but it couldn’t wait any longer. “Have you--did you see someone?” 

“What, like a doctor?” Zach shook his head. “No. No, I haven’t even called my publicist back. Or my mom, for that matter.” 

“One thing at a time,” Chris reminded him. “Is there . . . someone you can call?”

Zach stared at him. 

“Friend of Joe’s? Some traveling celebrity doctor? Someone who can make sure you’re okay while keeping their mouth closed?” 

Chris felt like he was grasping at straws. He just wanted to throw Zach in the car and drive him to the nearest hospital, but he knew that would be the worst course of action. 

Their visual standoff came to an end when Zach lowered his eyes. “I do. Know someone.” 

“Good.” Chris let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Good. That’s good.” Somehow, he’d thought Zach would put up more of a fight. 

“Just do one more thing for me?” Zach’s face was vulnerable, and Chris was prepared to offer him the world. 

“Yeah. Anything.” 

“Stay.” 

*

His friend of a friend was actually Tanya, a nurse friend of Kristen’s. Zach would trust Kristen with his life, and Tanya had helped them out more than once after drunken nights like the one time Adrian accidentally elbowed Jack in the face and gave him a black eye. Had it not been for Tanya, they wouldn’t have been able to shoot the next day. 

She arrived about an hour later dressed in scrubs with a messenger bag slung across her body. 

“Thanks for coming.” Normally, he would kiss her on both cheeks Hollywood style, but today he couldn’t bring himself to touch her. 

“It’s no big deal. You caught me at the end of my shift, so it worked out. Your place is on my way home.” Tanya was tall, slender, and she had a serious cut to her features that Zach supposed came from working in the emergency room for so many years. However, the laugh lines around her mouth betrayed the compassion she felt for humanity. “I just need somewhere to . . . work. Your bedroom?” She glanced at Chris, and Zach could read the question in her eyes. 

He and Chris knew each other intimately, but not for something like this. “That’s good. Chris, we’ll be out soon.” 

Zach had to hide his hands in his armpits to keep them from shaking as he closed the bedroom door behind them. 

Tanya retrieved a couple of towels from the bathroom and spread them out across the sheets. “Probably the best way to do this will be to have you disrobe and lie on the bed. It’s not going to be ideal, but we’ll make do. We can use your duvet as a cover-up. I want to make this as comfortable as possible for you.”

“I appreciate that.” 

She disappeared again, and Zach could hear her washing her hands. He took the opportunity to strip down, lay on top of the towels, and cover himself with the duvet. He kept his t-shirt on because he couldn’t possibly imagine why she’d need to examine his chest or back. 

Snapping on a pair of gloves, Tanya emerged a moment later. Her face was all business. “Have you showered?”

“Twice.” Zach chewed his bottom lip. Rationally, he knew that was the wrong thing to do, but prior to Chris arriving, Zach had never had any intentions of letting Tanya, or anyone else, examine him like this.

“Bend your knees for me, and scoot as close as you can to the edge of the bed.” 

Zach did, and he felt Tanya lift the blanket up over his knees. 

“Breathe, Zach,” she said, meeting his eyes. 

He forced himself to take a deep breath and let it out. 

“Good. I’m going to touch you now. Just an outer, visual examination first.” 

Zach’s hands clutched at the sheets as he felt Tanya’s gloved hands lift his balls with a gentle, steady touch and spread his cheeks. 

“Are you experiencing any bleeding?” 

Zach kept his eyes glued to the ceiling. “I noticed some when i was in the shower, yeah.” 

“It looks like you have some minor evidence of tearing.” Tanya’s hands left his skin, and Zach heard the unmistakable _snap_ of a plastic cap being flicked open. “Now, I’m going to do an internal exam. Are you okay with that?” 

Zach drew in another breath. “Yeah.” 

The chill of the lube was uncomfortable, but not unfamiliar. Instinctively, Zach’s muscles tensed. 

“Don’t lift your hips.” Tanya’s free hand reach around Zach’s leg to press his hip back into the bed. “Deep breath.” 

As he drew air into his lungs, Zach felt Tanya press two fingers inside of him. He fought the urge to kick her in the head. Tears stung his eyes as she palpated his lower belly. 

“Talk to me, Zach.” 

“About what?” 

“Tell me about your dog.” 

“Noah?” Zach’s voice cracked on the name. “He’s a rescue.” He knew what she was doing, but it gave him something to focus on other than what was going on between his legs. “I’ve had him for about three years no-ow.” He stumbled on the last word as Tanya hit a sensitive spot. 

“You might feel a little bit of pressure. I’m just going to take a swab. How did you come up with the name Noah?” 

“I already had it picked out before I got him. I was going to adopt a different dog initially, but then I ended up with my Noah.” 

Zach hissed as Tanya pulled her fingers out. 

She turned around. “You can get dressed.” 

Zach wasted no time jumping up. He wiped at the mess between his legs with one of the towels he’d been lying on and threw it towards the laundry hamper to be washed later. He pulled his boxers and jeans back on and wiggled a bit to get himself comfortable. “Okay.” 

Tanya faced him again. “I just want to take a blood sample, and I’ll be gone.” 

Zach sat patiently as she tied a bit of rubber tubing around his arm, found a vein, and stuck him. With his arm bent to staunch the flow of blood, Zach watched as Tanya removed her gloves and packed her bag. “Thank you,” he said. “For everything.” 

‘Don’t mention it.” She touched his arm on her way out. He had to fight not to flinch away. “I’ll call you with your lab results. In the meantime, get some rest.” And for once, that didn’t sound like a bad idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on Tumblr [@moitmiller](moitmiller.tumblr.com) if you want to come play or chat or whatever. I love to talk to people. <3 Thanks again for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zach and the others kick off the press tour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE heed the notes and warnings and updated tags, especially in light of recent RL tragedy. There are a couple instances of completely awful homophobic slurs in this chapter, so please TREAD LIGHTLY. The main thrust of this chapter is, however, focused on Zach's healing and recovery. There's just a bit of angst along the way. 
> 
> You may also notice that I've totally whacked proper timelines and things like the fact that Zach should have not just Noah, but Skunk as well, but "canon," as it were, just wouldn't fit with this story properly, so I've cut and pasted some things. :)
> 
> Eternal gratitude to my betas, who keep me on task. I love you guys. <3

After Chris left, Zach knew it was time to make some difficult phone calls. They were leaving on Saturday to start the press tour, and he needed to wrap up these loose ends. Thank god his phone hadn’t broken when he chucked it against the wall. 

He called his mom first since she had left him at least five voicemails since the day before. 

“Zachary John Quinto, where the hell have you been? I must have called you 15 times. I couldn’t get ahold of your brother, either. I almost called the police.” 

“I was at home. I’m--I’m at home. I’m okay, Ma.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re--”

Zach could tell she was trying not to cry, and it made him want to cry. 

“I didn’t see it, but I heard--Zachary, it was on the _news_. Please tell me they’re looking for those bastards. I’d love to kill them with my own hands. They’ll pay for what they did to you.” 

Zach’s heart sank, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell his mother the truth--that the police weren’t going to be involved. “I’m just trying to move past it. Chris came over today. Remember, we’re leaving for Sydney on Saturday.” 

His mom was quiet for a minute. “I think you should come back to Pittsburgh for a while. You can relax, get out of the public eye . . . ”

“Ma, I’m not going to Pittsburgh. I have work. And contracts. I’ve already committed to this, and besides, I’ll have the guys and Zoe with me. Getting out of the _country_ for a while will be good for me.” 

“If that’s what you want to do, but Zach . . . ” The concern in her voice was palpable. 

“ _Ma_.” They’d been through this before, when he left Pittsburgh to move to LA. After a beat, he added, “Chris isn’t going to let anything happen to me. I’ll call you when we land, okay?” 

“Be careful. And be safe. And call your brother. Tell him to call me.”

“I will, Ma. I will.” 

“Okay. I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

His next call was to Joe. He knew he needed to call his agent, but talking to his family was a little more important right now. 

Joe didn’t answer, so Zach left a message. “Hey, uh, it’s me. Ma said she can’t get ahold of you, and I’m sure you want to talk. So, um, I’m fine. Call me.” 

He ended the call and fiddled with his phone as he contemplated calling his agent. The screen lit up with his brother’s face a moment later. Zach took a deep breath and swiped his thumb across the screen. “Hey, Joe.” 

“What’s up, bud? Sorry I missed your call. I literally just got service back. We were shooting in the mountains up north. Why do I have like 10 missed calls and about a hundred texts from Ma?”

Zach swallowed around the lump in his throat. He never imagined he’d have to be the one to tell his brother about what happened. Couldn’t imagine saying the words again. “Well, Joe, are you sitting down?” 

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “Zach? What’s going on? You’re scaring me. Did something happen to Mom?” 

“She’s fine. We’re all fine. It’s just . . . Can you promise not to say anything until I get done?” 

“Okay.” Zach took a deep breath. At last he got to tell Joe in his own words. “Friday night, I went to the bar with Cho. I met a guy there.” He deliberately left out the part about Chris. “He . . . and another guy . . . they roughed me up in the alley. They filmed it, and now Mom and everyone have seen it. That’s what she was calling you about.” 

There was a beat of silence. “What do you mean by ‘roughed up’? Did they mug you, or . . . ”

Zach felt tears prick his eyes. “Joe, please don’t make me say it.” 

“ _Jesus Christ_.” 

“Please don’t freak out.” He could already see his brother transitioning into defence mode, ready to fight to the death. “I told you I’m fine. Everything is fine, and you _do not_ need to get involved.” 

“Well, have they caught the guys yet? I mean, they have a video--what more do they need?”

“I didn’t file a police report,” Zach said softly. 

“What?”

“I said I didn’t--”

“I heard you the first time. What I mean is why didn’t you? They’re not blackmailing you or something, are they?” 

“No, no, no. Listen, Joe, please just drop it. It’s over. I want to get on with my life. I’m leaving for Australia on Saturday, and I want to put this behind me.” 

“That’s not how this works.” 

“But that’s how _I_ want to do it. This is about me, so can you please just try to be a little bit more supportive?”

“I am, but Zach, you were--” 

“ _Please_ , Joe.” 

“Okay.” His brother relented and fell silent. 

“Ma wants me to go back to Pittsburgh for a while.”

“Are you going to?” 

“Probably not. Maybe, after the press tour is over. I’m still thinking about moving to New York.” 

Joe made a noise of understanding, and Zach knew he was pissed. He didn’t blame him. He’d be pissed, too, if their roles were reversed. 

“Well, I’ll let you go. When do you get back to the city?”

“Tomorrow afternoon. Do you have some free time for us to catch up before you leave?”

“Yeah, I do.” And he meant it. As much as he ached to leave LA, he loved having his brother nearby. 

He ended the call and again contemplated talking to his agent but decided against it. What was there to talk about, anyway? 

Gradually, the phone calls and text messages started to pour in. 

I’m so sorry, Zach. 

Are you okay, Zach? 

let me know if there’s anything I can do, Zach

He just wanted them all to stop so he could get back to normal. The vultures were still outside waiting to snap pictures of him walking the dog, but they were less in number. Thankfully, his completely boring life had been enough to drive some of them towards more compelling material. 

He finally talked to his agent, who suggested he consult a lawyer. That idea appealed to him about as much sticking his hand in a blender. The only thing he worried about was his bad publicity affecting Trek, but his people assured him he had nothing to worry about. The press tour would go on as planned, and his dirty laundry would have nothing to do with it. 

*

On Saturday morning, the cast and JJ gathered at the airport in the ungodly hours of the morning. Several paps were on hand like buzzards haunting a stretch of desert highway. It felt weird to walk through the building with sunglasses on, but Chris would rather not be photographed without them. He’d hardly finished his first cup of coffee. The others were in similar states. Zoe, Chris admired, somehow managed to look flawless and effortlessly beautiful. 

He appreciated, though, how they sort of huddled around Zach by unspoken agreement. It wasn’t easy to hide the tallest member of their group, but at least they could protect him from the vultures. In his hideous bucket hat and glasses, he was doing a fair job of obscuring his face. 

They were almost to the security line when some asshole shouted, “It’s not rape if you’re a fag!” 

Zach faltered in his steps, and Chris nudged him forward to keep him moving. Consummate actors they were, none of the cast so much as twitched. JJ shot the guy a glare, and Chris contemplated ripping his face off, but they carried on like the words meant nothing. 

 

Zach remained silent until they were ensconced in the privacy of the VIP lounge. Chris itched to take his hand, pull him into a hug, anything to show him he wasn’t alone. He settled for leaning over and whispering, “You okay?” 

“Just peachy,” Zach muttered back. 

Times like these made Chris regret his decision to keep his (bi)sexuality behind closed doors. From his perspective, unless or until he had a boyfriend he was ready to share with the world, the truth of his preference was nobody’s fucking business. And Zach, to his credit, never so much as hinted at Chris coming out. As always, he was there to support Chris no matter what he chose. Chris only hoped he could give back what he’d been getting over the years. 

Zoe got up from her spot and sat down on Chris’s other side. “Are you having second thoughts?” 

“What?” Chris broke out of his reverie. “No? What are you talking about?” 

Zoe laid a warm hand on his knee. “We’re all hurting, baby, and it’s just going to take time.”

“I can hear you.” Zach leaned back so he could see Zoe beyond Chris. 

Zoe’s expression didn’t change She gave Zach one of her meaningful stares. “You’re not alone, Zach.” 

It was then that Chris realized the room had gone quiet. The others were watching them with concern in their faces. 

Seizing the opportunity before he lost his nerve, Chris reached down and threaded his fingers through Zach’s. And Zach let him. Because in here, they were among family. 

Chris half-expected him to pull away or glare, but Zach just gave his hand a small squeeze. The others knew Chris and Zach often went home together, and sometimes there were hickeys, but they’d never been open like this. The timing had never seemed more appropriate. 

Ben cleared his throat, and the attention swung to him. “I know it’s not my place, but I just want to say that I think you’re very brave, Zachary.” 

“Thanks.” Zach’s reply was quiet, but he gave Chris’s hand a squeeze. 

*

The fifteen-hour flight would have been unbearable, had it not been for Chris’s warm, steady presence beside him. He let Zach have the window and slipped a piece of gum into his hand. Chris always took care of him, even when Zach resisted. 

“Thanks.” 

Zach unwrapped the foil and stuck the gum in his mouth. His ears would pop during takeoff and landing, and he hated wearing earplugs because they hurt. He stared out the window of the plane as the workers on the tarmac prepared them for takeoff. So much trust they put into strangers to keep them safe. 

Behind him, he could hear the shuffling and murmuring of the other passengers boarding. Once or twice he heard things like “Captain Kirk!” and “Star Trek!” but he kept his head turned in the hopes that nobody would notice who Chris was sitting next to, especially after the comment in the terminal. 

People like that were the reason he’d been too afraid to check Instagram or Twitter, but he felt compelled to make a post just then. Between the time they shut the airplane door and the time they started the safety spiel, Zach leaned forward in his seat so he could catch Chris, Anton, and Karl in his camera’s frame and snapped a picture. None of them faced the camera, and artistically, Zach like the effect. Earbuds in, Chris’s head was tipped back. He looked dead to the world. Karl and Anton were absorbed in their conversation, and knowing the Wunderkind, they were discussing nuclear physics or something equally lofty. Zach prided himself on his extensive vocabulary, but Anton put them all to shame. 

_sydney here we come_ , he typed, _#startrekintodarkness_ and posted the picture. He typed out a quick message to his publicist and asked her to keep an eye on his social media. He wasn’t particularly interested in censorship, but he also interested in anyone replying to his posts with ‘KILL YOURSELF FAGGOT, either. He switched his phone to airplane mode and wedged it into the seatback pocket in front of him as the safety video came on. 

Closing his eyes, Zach fluffed his pillow against the window and tried to get comfortable. 

*

The sound of voices pulled Chris out of sleep. Disoriented, he looked around and realized that the flight attendants were taking drink orders. He glanced to his left. Zach was fast asleep and snoring softly. Somehow, he’d managed to curl his long legs up onto the seat with him. All things considered, he looked comfortable. 

“Anything to drink, Sir?” 

“Oh.” Chris tore his attention away from Zach. “Scotch and soda, please.” He really wanted a cup of coffee, but he’d never be able to fall back to sleep if he had another. They were due to arrive around noon on Sunday, and while they didn’t have to do any press until Monday, Chris still wanted to be alert enough to function. The last time they’d gone to Oceania, it had been a whirlwind of press and interviews and the premiere, practically from the time they stepped off the airplane. 

_Zach collapsed back onto one of the beds with a deep sigh._

_“Who said you get the bed by the air conditioner?”_

_“Fight me for it, Pine,” Zach said without opening his eyes._

_Chris stretched himself out on his stomach next to Zach. “We could always share. Or push them together to make one giant bed.”_

_Zach cracked one eye to judge Chris and then busted up laughing. “What the fuck is wrong with you? ‘One giant bed’? What are you, twelve? Or are you hoping for a cast orgy?”_

_Chris’s ears burned red. “It was just an idea.”_

_“Come here.” Zach opened his arms, and Chris obediently moved until his head was resting on Zach’s chest. “We can share this tiny, itty bitty little bed as long as you promise not to hog all the blankets like last time.”_

_“But I get so cold.”_

_“And I’m like a human furnace. Just cuddle up, stay put, and we’ll both be warm.”_

_Chris woke the next morning to find that sometime in the night, Zach had abandoned him for the other bed._

_Tossing the blankets off his body, Chris tiptoed across the carpet and slipped into Zach’s bed. Between Zach’s body heat at the farther proximity from the A/C, it was much warmer than his own bed. Zach didn’t so much as stir as Chris molded himself against Zach’s back and tucked his chilly knees into the hollows behind Zach’s much warmer ones._

That probably wouldn’t be happening this time around, however. With how well the first film did, the studio had allowed them to negotiate for raises, and each of them would have their own room during the junket. 

Hazarding another glance at Zach’s sleeping form, Chris feared the physical space would only drive them farther apart emotionally. 

The flight attendant returned with his scotch, and he took it with a grateful smile. Nothing to do but get drunk, then. 

*

Zach swam to consciousness slowly like his body and brain were fighting over the transition. His legs felt cramped from being tucked against his body for so long, and he stretched them out under the seat in front of him with a soft sigh. He pressed the button on his armrest and sat up straight. Next to him, Chris had his nose in a book and a pen in his hand. 

“What time is it?” 

Chris marked the place in his book and looked at Zach. “Almost 10. How was your nap?” 

“Good,” Zach said through a yawn. He hadn’t slept well all week, for as much time as he spent in bed. Somehow, he felt safe up here in this metal tube surrounded by his Star Trek family. For at least 15 hours, it felt like no one and nothing could hurt him. 

The flight attendant reappeared and asked Zach if he needed something to drink. 

“What are you drinking?” he asked, peering at Chris’s glass. 

“Scotch and soda.” 

Zach wrinkled his nose. “I’ll have white wine, please.” 

Chris chuckled as the woman walked away. “We both know you were going to get white wine. Why’d you ask?” 

“Curiosity.” 

When the flight attendant returned, Zach took his glass with a grateful smile. 

“I snagged you one of these, too.” Chris slid a granola bar onto Zach’s tray. 

“I’ve been really shitty to you lately.” 

“Dude, it’s okay.” 

Zach shook his head. “No, it’s really not . . . Can you let me out so I can go to the bathroom?”

Chris picked up both of their cups and stepped into the aisle to let Zach pass. Zach sighed with relief as circulation returned to his legs. 

He shut himself in the tiny bathroom and braced his hands on the sink. No part of him wanted to get off this plane. Hopefully, the Australian people would just be happy to see Spock. 

Zach peed, washed his hands, and stepped back out. 

Zoe caught his hand as he walked by. “Hey, baby,” she said in that husky voice of hers. “You holding up okay?” 

Thankful that the first class seats afforded them more room, Zach crouched down in front of her and sighed. His mind warred between the desire to be touched and the repulsion he felt at the thought of someone’s hands on him. 

_Don’t fall apart, don’t fall apart,_ he admonished himself. 

But as he stared into Zoe’s warm brown eyes, all he could think about was his mother. The need for comfort won out. 

Zach laid his head in Zoe’s lap and wrapped his arms around her waist. 

“Oh, Zach,” she sighed, carding a hand through his hair. 

His breath hitched, and Zach dug his his fingernails into his palm to keep himself from crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1 in Sydney

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow.. I'm sorry it took me so long to get this chapter together. I finished chapter 3 right before Anton died, and TBH, it was just too hard to write this for a while, and then I got stupid busy in July. Please bear in mind that I plan on writing the next chapter of Sophomore before I come back to this, but I fully intend to finish both. Thanks for hanging with me!
> 
> Also: eternal thank you to my beta, 1lostone, for the ever-present cheerleading. You're the best, boo. <3

As soon as he got into his hotel room, Zach stripped off and took a shower. He didn’t even bother unpacking first. He’d hardly paid attention during the ride from the airport. This wasn’t his first visit to Sydney, and he had a clanging headache. All he wanted to do was fall into bed face-first and sleep until he had to be up for work in the morning. 

But as soon as he stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, someone knocked on the door. 

“Jesus Chris,” Zach whispered. He looked through the peep hole. “Christopher,” he drawled as he opened the door. Of course. “Shouldn’t you be at the bar or making a new Sydney collage, or something?”

Chris shrugged and flopped down on the sofa as Zach shut the door behind him. “Just thought I’d come see how you’re doing. You were quiet on the ride over here.” 

“Because 15 hours on an airplane wasn’t enough?” Zach sighed. “I’m just not in the mood to entertain right now. I was going to bed.” 

“Nap sounds good.” 

“Alone.” 

“Yeah, I can take a hint. Not-so-subtle as it may be.”

Zach pushed a hand through his hair. He didn’t want to be like this—didn’t want _them_ to be like this. “You can stay. I guess. Just . . . “ He drew in a breath, and the words hurt to force out. “Just don’t touch me.” 

“Okay.” Chris managed to school his features so that he didn’t look like Zach just punched him in the stomach. He offered a small, thin smile and climbed into the far side of the bed, careful to keep close to the edge. “Is this okay?” 

Zach hated how vulnerable and unsure Chris looked in the wide expanse of the hotel’s bleach-white sheets. They’d shared a bed more times than he can count, in both sexy and non-sexy ways, and it never felt like this. 

After pulling on a pair of boxers, Zach climbed into the other side of the bed. The space between he and Chris felt like an ocean. “All right, then.” He placed his glasses on the nightstand and settled down. “Good night, Chris.” 

“Night, Zach.” 

*

No matter how hard he tried, Chris couldn’t fall asleep. He laid on his back and stared up at the textured ceiling. Beside him, Zach’s breathing was even and deep. Chris didn’t want to move around too much for fear that he would wake Zach. Insisting on joining him for a nap was apparently an awful idea. He was way too wired to sleep. 

Unable to stand it any longer, Chris held his breath as he slipped back out of the bed. Zach didn’t stir.

Chris walked back into the suite’s living room. He hadn’t brought a book, and all he could find was a pad of hotel stationery and a pen, so he settled onto the couch with that. 

He’d finished about five pages when he decided he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. 

Zach was curled on his side and snoring softly when Chris returned to the bedroom. Biting his lip, Chris considered his options. While Zach had said not to touch him, he was just too tempting a sight to resist. Besides, Chris was exhausted, and he needed a cuddle.

He didn’t move when Chris eased in behind him and wrapped an arm around Zach’s waist. 

Chris was asleep in minutes. 

 

The wake-up call came for too early. Since the phone was on Zach’s side of the bed, though, Chris buried his head under his pillow and waited for it to stop. He heard the deep rumble of Zach’s voice and he groaned. 

“It’s too early.” 

“Come on, get up.” The bed shifted as Zach stood up. “You need to get back to your room so you can shower and get ready. We’re leaving in an hour.” 

Groggy, Chris pulled himself out of the bed just in time to see Zach disappear into the bathroom. 

*

A limo drove them to the harbor for their early morning photocall. The winter air was chilly, and Chris tucked his scarf tighter around his neck. He held his phone in one hand and clutched a hot cup of coffee to his chest with the other. His castmates were in similar states, but it was upon Zach that Chris’s gaze fell. His friend stood in the midst of the others, yet for someone who knew him as well as Chris did, Zach was clearly checked out of the proceedings. 

“Hey,” said Chris as he sidled up next to Zach while the people around them prepared the shoot. “Good to be back in Sydney, huh?” 

Zach prised the paper cup from Chris’s hand and took a long drink. He’d finished his before they even got out of the limo. “It is. To be honest, I’m not looking forward to going back to the States when this is over.” Thoughtful, he stared out over the harbor. 

“Well, maybe we don’t have to.” 

Zach gave him a sideways glance. 

“Maybe we can . . . I don’t know . . . take a road trip or something.” 

“In Chris Pine Fantasyland, maybe.” Zach’s ensuing laugh was hollow and self-deprecating. He patted Chris on shoulder and walked away with his coffee cup. 

All at once, Chris was hit with a wave of sadness. Things between them--things for Zach--would never be the same. Last time, the press junket had been lighthearted and fun. This time, it felt like a trial to be endured. 

They lined up for the group shots, and despite his best efforts, Zach was moved to the middle of the group between Chris and JJ. 

Chris wrapped a hand around his waist and tucked his fingers against the upper curve of Zach’s hipbone. He felt Zach stiffen slightly before relaxing into the touch. 

After the photocall, they split up to film segments at different television shows in Sydney. Chris, Zach, and Karl were sent to a local news station.

“So, fellas, please tell me what it’s like to be back in Sydney,” said one of the anchors. 

“Cold,” Chris answered with a laugh that Zach and Karl echoed. 

“They’re not used to having winter in July,” said Karl. “Especially our Cali boy Chris over here. This guy refuses to wear socks, yet he complains when the temperature gets below 20.” 

Zach stayed quiet for most of the interview, only chiming in when it was necessary. 

“Well, we’re almost out of time, but Zach, we have one last question for you.” 

Chris could see the tension in Zach’s jaw as he waited for the axe to fall. 

“Did you really have to shave your eyebrows for the role?” 

Zach’s face positively lit up—and Chris knew he was relieved to be answering yet another question about his eyebrows, rather than something about the attack. He fielded the question like the professional he was and even took his glasses off to show the camera his eyebrows in all their thick, bushy glory. But as soon as they were out of the studio, Zach’s mask dropped and he receded back into his shell. 

*

After a group lunch provided by the studio, the cast was given the rest of the afternoon to themselves. 

“Who's up for the beach?” Karl asked. 

Zach made a face and started to decline, but he suddenly found himself in the middle of a group hug and a chorus of voices insisting he accompany them to the ocean. 

“Guys!” Zach shouted over the din. “Zoe doesn’t have to go!” 

“Because Zoe is not affected by useless displays of masculinity,” she said. 

“Fine! Fine!” Zach fought his way away from his friends. “Fine. Just . . . don’t—don’t do that again.” Normally, Zach wasn’t bothered by being tactile with his friends. In fact, he tended to welcome a familiar touch, but lately even Chris’s hands made his skin crawl. 

 

_Zach watched Chris peer out the window of their hotel room at the ocean._

_“Dude, this is so fucking cool! I mean, I grew up near the ocean, but I’ve never seen it from the Southern hemisphere. Or Australia.” A look of excitement on his face, Chris spun around. “Let’s go swimming.”_

_“Now?” Zach barked out a laugh. “Chris, it’s 9:30 at night. And winter.”_

_Skipping forward, Chris tugged at Zach’s arms. “Come on. Real quick. We jump in, jump out, and come back up here for a nice, hot shower.”_

_Zach tried to fight it, he really did, but he could never resist_ that _look on Chris’s face._

_Like two teenagers, they ran, laughing and giggling, out the hotel’s back door, past the swimming pool, out the gate, and across white sand._

_“Wait, wait!” Zach cried out as he pulled Chris to a stop._

_“What?”_

_“Let me take my shoes off.” He balanced comically on one foot as he pried the Converse off the other with both hands. Chris bounced on the balls of his feet as he waited for Zach to finish. Zach dropped his second shoe in the sand next to the first and gave Chris a wide smile._

_Together, they dove into the waves._

_A moment later, coughing and sputtering, Zach surfaced. “Fuck, that’s cold!”_

_Teeth chattering, Chris broke the water next to him. “You’re telling m-me!”_

_“You stupid, beautiful California boy.” Zach reached out and pulled him in for a kiss as a wave crashed against them. “Let’s get out of here before you get sick and JJ blames me.”_

_They fought their way back out of the ocean, collected Zach’s shoes, and ran back into the hotel._

_As soon as the hotel door shut behind them, Zach began to strip out of his sopping wet clothes. He left them in a pile by the door to be dealt with later. Poor Chris was shivering like a hairless dog in a snowstorm._

_“Come here.” Zach wrapped a towel around Chris’s bare shoulders and pulled him into the bathroom._

_Their shower was hot and sensual. Zach took his time soaping Chris up and making sure his skin was pink and warm. He then dried him with one of the fluffy hotel towels, tucked him into bed, and crawled in after him._

_“I think I’m too tired . . . “ Zach waited, but the rest of Chris’s thought never came._

_Smiling softly, Zach tucked himself around Chris’s body and closed his eyes._

 

Zach trudged back to his hotel room wet, cold, and alone. His friends had quickly discovered that jumping into the Pacific Ocean in the middle of the winter was a lot less fun than it sounded. Only Karl, the resident Kiwi, seemed capable of surviving the frigid waves. 

The California boys jumped in, jumped out, and stood on the shore laughing and shivering. 

“Come on, Quinto, your turn.”

“No. Karl . . . Karl, no!” Zach tried to run, but Karl caught him around the waist and used his bulkier frame to hoist Zach bridal-style into his arms. 

Normally, Zach would have submitted with a shriek and a laugh, but all he could see was _those guys_ and suddenly he was back in that alley fighting for his life and then he was under water. 

He stood up sputtering like a wet cat. “What the fuck, man!” 

Several steps away, Karl eyed him suspiciously. “Are you okay? I was just pissing around, but you went . . . you were gone. I didn’t mean to drop you.” 

Panting, Zach’s gaze traveled from Karl to Chris and the others back on the beach. They all wore pitying expressions couched in shock. 

Without another word, Zach dragged himself out of the ocean and walked furiously towards the hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is love. <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooo I just couldn't focus on this story for a really long time. I never planned to abandon it, and I do plan to finish it. Sophomore just got all my focus for a while. I hope this chapter was worth the wait. 
> 
> Icicle poopie, if you're reading this, this one's for you.

“Tip your head back just a bit. Right there. Now hold still. Good.” 

Squinting one eye open, Chris glanced at the man next to him who was receiving similar treatment. Zach would never admit it, but Chris knew he was grateful for Patricia’s steady and continued presence. She’d worked with them on the last press tour, and had readily agreed to come along again. Zach was leery about letting _Chris_ touch him anymore. He couldn’t imagine . . . Then again, Patricia was a woman. 

“How’s that, honey?” Chris heard her saying. He watched in the mirror as Zach turned his face to the left, to the right, then pouted. 

“What can I say? You’re magical.” 

Patricia’s deep, throaty laughter rang out. “Honey, that’s only because you give me such a good canvas to work with.” She kept fussing with the lock of hair on Zach’s forehead. “I’m not sure about this, though. Do you really like it?” 

“Not if you’re going to keep picking at it.” One of the reasons Zach liked Patricia so much was because she as even more of a perfectionist than he. 

“Head still.” Chris was pulled out of his thoughts by Sonja readjusting him with both hands. 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry; just hold still.” 

Sighing internally, Chris stared at his own reflection. He didn’t have a Patricia. Then again, he wasn’t as picky about who did his hair and makeup. Sonja was a local, and based on her brusque manner, he couldn’t wait to hire her again never. 

He drew the line when she came at him with mascara. “Absolutely not.” 

“Zach’s wearing some.” 

Amateur. She clearly thought Chris cared about _anything_ Zach wore, like the suspenders that made Chris’s pants ride up the crack of his ass in the worst way. Using the phrase, ‘Well, Zach’s doing it,’ with Chris was like saying to anyone else, ‘Looks like the power line is down! Let’s go play in the puddle next to it!’

“No.” 

She kept coming, so Chris jumped out of the chair. 

“Oh, come on, Chris. Don’t be such a baby. I still have to put on the finishing powder, anyway.” 

“I’m done. Get out.” 

Sonja stood there for a moment with her hands on her hips. Realizing Chris was serious, she began throwing her equipment back into the bag. “I’d heard you were a diva, but damn.” 

She stormed out of the room, and Chris collapsed back into the chair. “Patricia?” he whined. 

Shaking her head, she patted him on the shoulder. “Sit up, sugar. I’ll finish you off.” 

Uncharacteristically quiet, Zach sat watching the whole exchange. 

*

_”You know, as much as I love acting, this is the part that I hate the most.”_

_Because his makeup artist was affixing his Spock ears, Zach could only arch one half-shaved eyebrow. They’d been on set a mere week now, and he hated looking at himself in the mirror without his glasses on. If his eyebrows didn’t grow back, he was seriously considering implants or transplants or eyebrow tattoos or something to hide the missing half. Vanity was a sin Zach openly embraced. He never would have gotten this job if the producers didn’t think he’d appeal to the female audience._

_“What? Sitting for hours? Because you’re not the one getting ears and eyebrows done.”_

_“No, it’s the make-up part. No offense, Nick.”_

_The man wielding the brush made a noncommittal noise. “I don’t put pancake on myself every day, so I don’t blame you.”_

_“Well, it’s not getting it put on or wearing it; it’s taking it back off. Everything makes me break out. That’s why you get to cover my lovely scars every morning.”_

_“Do you exfoliate?” Zach asked._

_“I exfoliate, I use masks, I’ve tried shots and serums and creams. I tried one of those spin brush thingies, too, but it felt like I was sanding my skin off. I’d go on birth control if they let me. That seems to work for girls. Trust me, I’ve tried everything, and it all makes me break out.”_

_“Try this.” Nick handed him a bottle the size of his palm. “It’s just a sample, but it’s a make-up remover I really like. Seems like the worst thing that could happen is you break out.”_

_“And have to go to my dermatologist for more shots in the face.” Chris gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Thanks. I’ll give it a try.”_

_“Keep in mind that it’s literally my job to make sure your face looks good on camera, so I wouldn’t give you anything I was worried would make you look bad.”_

_“You literally can’t look worse than me,” said Zach. With his half-eyebrows and one pointed ear, he looked like a movie monster gone wrong. Chris couldn’t help but laugh._

*

The closer the limo got to the theatre, the more intense Zach’s anxiety grew. he had asked to ride with Chris—or Zoe or anyone else—but the studio vetoed that in a hurry. They wanted to milk this film for all it was worth, and that meant Zach had to arrive alone. 

At least he had Patricia with him, and Stephanie, his publicist. She’d done a spectacular job of damage control. Zach was planning to give her a raise. 

He breathed in deeply through his nose and out his mouth like his therapist taught him. 

“Is it just me, or is it hot in here?” He tugged at the collar of his shirt. 

“Zach, you need to calm down,” Stephanie said. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a pill bottle and shook a small white one into her hand. “Here. Take this. You’ll feel better.” 

“I don’t . . . “ He shook his head, but Stephanie insisted. 

Sighing, Zach swallowed the pill with a sip of water. A moment later, they pulled up to the red carpet. Through the tinted windows, Zach could see the flash of a hundred cameras, and he could hear the roar of the crowd. 

Patricia leaned across the seat to squeeze his knee. “Break a leg, sweetheart.” 

The door opened. 

Zach stepped out of the limo on autopilot. Automatically, he buttoned his jacket and gave the crowd a tight smile. 

Stephanie remained several steps behind him as he signed autographs and posed for pictures. He had to restrain himself from grabbing her hand. It would send the crowd into bedlam thinking Zach was declaring romantic involvement when in actuality he was only trying to keep his wits about him. 

When he caught up to Chris just outside the building, Zach couldn’t restrain his genuine excitement at seeing his friend, even though they’d been together an hour earlier getting their hair and make-up done. Besides, the fans loved it.

“Hey, Buddy. How you holding up?” Chris whispered into his ear. 

“Good.” Zach pulled away and said loud enough to be heard, “Good to see you, man!” The pill Stephanie gave him was starting to kick in, and Zach felt himself relaxing into the excitement and adrenaline of film premieres. 

They were soon joined by Zoe, who looked radiant as ever in her high-low hem. Zach brushed a kiss against her cheek so as not to smudge her look. 

“How are you, baby?” 

Through the clenched teeth of his smile, Zach said, “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” 

“Because it’s polite,” Chris said from his other side. 

Zach inhaled deeply. “I love my job,” he sighed through slightly parted lips. 

Once inside, they were expected to smile and mingle. Normally, Zach would work the room, but tonight he stuck close to Chris and hoped he could pass it off as an opportunity to promote the new film. Together. 

Zach did excuse himself from his conversation long enough to snag a glass of champagne, but Stephanie must have been watching him because she plucked it from his fingers just as quickly. 

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Lowering her voice, she added, “If you drink that, you’ll be on the floor before the movie starts.” 

Zach bit back a response about that being preferable. He was being paid good money to be here, after all. And if he did anything to fuck that up, he’d be in breach of contract. That was innumerably worse than than sitting through a movie he spent six months making with his best friends. 

*

Snagging Zach’s arm, Chris pulled him away from Stephanie and Patricia. “I’ll take him back to the hotel, and you guys can go do your thing.”

Jerking his arm away, Zach glared. “Please don’t do that.” 

“You don’t want to go to the after party?” Stephanie asked. 

“No.” Zach’s reply was emphatic, despite his irritation. “You sure you don’t?”

Chris shook his head. “I’m not really in the mood for it tonight.” 

Stephanie gave them a long look. “Drink a big glass of water and get some sleep. Our flight to Auckland leaves tomorrow at 4.” 

“I know.” 

Together, the boys walked to the limo in silence. The film had been received to the sound of deafening applause. Chris was still awed by the positive reviews given to his work. But it was hard to be excited when Zach had sat next to him all night so obviously in pain. 

“You ready for Auckland?”

“I guess.” Zach’s reply was soft. “I’m sure Karl’s already packed and ready to go.” 

“Do you wish we had a premiere in Pittsburgh?” 

“A little bit, yeah, but I think I’m gonna try to get Joe to bring my mom to the New York premiere.” 

“That would be awesome. My parents are planning to come once we’re back in LA.” 

Their conversation lapsed into silence then.

In the dim light of the limo, Chris could see that Zach’s hands were twisted together in his lap. Reaching over, he held out his own, palm-up. After a moment, Zach slid his chilly hand into Chris’s much warmer one and folded their fingers together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is love. <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris wanted to call him a liar. Reach across the table and shake Zach—demand that he scream, cry, whatever he needed to do to get back to the way he used to be. But that would never happen. That Zach was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I actually slammed this one out in like 3 days. There's a new tag, so plz double-check them if you're nervous. (Then again, this whole fic is intense.)

Zach jerked awake as the plane touched down in New Zealand. Beside him, Karl was unbuckling his own seatbelt.

“Have a nice nap?”

“What time is it?”

“9:07 Kiwi.”

“Jesus.” Zach scrubbed a hand over his stubble. At least their first interviews weren’t until the following day. “I think I left my consciousness back in Australia.”

But Karl wasn’t listening. He was already chattering on about how good it was go be home, how excited he was to see his own family and sleep in his own bed. Zach couldn’t blame him. He’d give up almost anything to sleep in his own bed right now.

Someone must have tipped off the press because a group of reporters were waiting for them just beyond the security checkpoint. Thankfully, they were way more interested in Karl, allowing Zach to melt into the background. He kept his hat on and his head down and somehow wound up in a car sandwiched between Stephanie and John.

“I just want to lie down and sleep for the next ten years.” Even as he said it, though, Zach found himself watching the landscape out the window as they sped through Auckland.

“How you doing, man?”

Zach focused on John instead of looking past him. His heart ached at how sincere his friend looked. “I’m . . . ” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the driver and remembered they were not alone. “I’m great.” He forced a smile onto his face. Maybe, if he convinced enough people, he would start to believe it himself.

*

Having cast dinner was one of Chris’s favorite parts of being on tour. Sitting around Karl’s extra large dinner table was even better. Chris just sat there for several long moments, watching his friends—family—laugh and enjoy their time together. There was so much love around the table.

Zach caught his gaze. “You’re not going to start crying, are you?”

So what if Chris got a little weepy when he was happy? “No. Are you having fun?”

To their left and right, everyone else was absorbed in conversation. “Yes.”

Chris wanted to call him a liar. Reach across the table and shake Zach—demand that he scream, cry, whatever he needed to do to get back to the way he used to be. But that would never happen. That Zach was gone.

Eventually, the group began to spread out across the house. Zach disappeared with Zoe and Karl, and Chris sat at the table talking to Ben. They were the only ones left.

“Pine! Benny!” Karl’s voice called from the living room. “Get in here!”

Their friends were playing a game that was an odd mix of Taboo and Pictionary, wherein each person had a hand-drawn picture stuck to their forehead, and the others had to guess the artist.

“Okay, that looks like a dog taking a shit,” said Anton.

They all erupted into laughter, even Zoe, who was wearing the unidentifiable drawing.

“Looks sort of like a cat to me.” Chris cocked his head sideways. Were the pointy parts supposed to be legs or ears?

Sighing, JJ stalked over and snatched the picture. “It’s supposed to be Matthew McConaughey.”

“Wasn’t he in Magic Mike?”

“That movie was shit. Channing Tatum is hot, but the writing was terrible.” Zach’s eyes fell on Chris. “Your ex-girlfriend was in that movie.”

Chris cleared his throat and gestured at JJ’s drawing. “You were a fan of Magic Mike? Or you just really like chick flicks?” It was a terrible deflection, and Chris knew it.

“Oh, come on.”

“Name one decent thing he’s been in,” Anton prodded. “Just one.”

“A Time to Kill,” Ben’s crisp accent rang out.

Flapping her hands excitedly, Zoe sat up. “Isn’t that the one where he defends Morgan Freeman for killing those two men who rape—“

The room fell silent. Zoe clapped her hand over her mouth. Her brown eyes were wide and focused on Zach.

After an awkward minute, he stood and walked out of the room.

*

The door opened and closed behind Zach, but he didn’t move from his place against the banister. An unlit cigarette dangled from his left hand.

“Zach?” Gentle fingertips touched his elbow. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I spoke before I thought through what I was about to say.”

As he turned around, he pulled Zoe into a tight hug. He inhaled the scent of her perfume and used it to ground himself. “It’s okay.” His voice cracked slightly as he pulled away. In his fingers, he twirled the cigarette he’d bummed off Karl earlier in the night.

“You gonna smoke that?”

“No.” Zach flipped the butt-end towards her. “Why? You want it?”

“Why do you have it if you aren’t going to smoke it?”

“I’d rather have a joint, but this is all Karl had.”

Zoe’s lips pressed into a line. The corner of her mouth twitched the way it did when she was nervous. “Have you talked to someone?”

“I’m talking to you.” Zach gave her his best fake smile. “No. My therapist is back in LA, and I’m . . . “ He spread his arms wide. “I’m in New Fucking Zealand.”

Except, rather than feeling excited about it, he just felt empty.

*

The following day was long. Chris and Zach were locked in a hotel room together while reporter after reporter paraded in and asked them the same questions over and over again. About the only thing keeping Zach sane was his competition with Chris to see who could use the most ten-dollar words in his answer. By Zach’s count, Chris had one up on him, but Zach was gearing up to slide ‘locution’ into the conversation when the most beautiful man walked into the room. He looked like Robert Redford and Rock Hudson’s son, if two men could have a baby together. And he was every one of Zach’s wet dreams.

“Hi.” Dreamboat smiled and held out his hand. “I’m Jack Carlson, and I’ve gotta say, I’m a huge fan.”

Zach felt his stomach flip. “Wow, thank—“

“Your Captain Kirk is amazing,” Jack gushed to Chris. “I grew up watching Star Trek, and I thought no one could top William Shatner, but you are just—wow. Your performance in this film just blew me away.”

A deep blush raced over the bridge of Chris’s nose and up to the tips of his ears. “Thank you so much. That really means a lot.”

“You were really great as Spock, too,” Jack said, almost as an afterthought.

“Thanks.” Zach crossed his legs. He was already done with this guy. Not that Chris wasn’t allowed to have fans—fuck knows he did—but ignoring Zach when he was sitting right there was just rude.

Jack flipped through his notes. “Okay, so my first question is, ‘How did you get into the right headspace while you were on set?’”

Zach crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. Jack obviously wasn’t talking to him.

“Uh.” Chris cleared his throat. “Getting into costume helps a lot. Once I step onto set, I _feel_ like Jim Kirk. I already know the lines, so the costume and the set just clicks everything into place. It’s like I’m entering his world, and what we’re doing ceases to be a pastiche and really starts to become Star Trek for me.”

At the word ‘pastiche,’ Zach perked up. He uncrossed his legs, and made a point to ‘accidentally’ tap Chris’s foot with his own. So they were still playing, then.

“Excellent, excellent.” Scribbling furiously, Jack wrote down every word Chris said. He was eating this up.

“I don’t mean to sound garrulous,” Zach paused, letting that one sink in, “but when you have to go to work every day, sometimes you can’t get into the headspace. Maybe you were up late or you’ve got something personal going on. You have to be cogent enough to push yourself into that character’s mind, even if it’s not exactly the right headspace.” Now, they were even.

Jack must not have completely understood what Zach was saying because he nodded and hastily scribbled a few notes. By the time the interview was over, Zach was up by two, and Jack looked suitably confused. Zach added one more to his win column.

The door shut, leaving them alone for a precious few moments.

“What was that?”

No sense in playing dumb. “By my count, I’m up by two.” He kept the bonus point about unsettling Chris’s number one fan to himself.

“Dude, that poor guy practically didn’t even know what you were saying. I get that you were miffed because he was more excited to meet me, but damn.”

“Oh, come on. I was just having some fun. He got his interview. He got to meet you. No harm, no foul.”

The door opened again, and a perky young Asian girl strolled into the room. Their conversation would have to wait until later.

 

Later came that night when they were sitting in Chris’s bed watching television with a respectable six inches of distance between them.

“You wanna go for a run tomorrow morning?”

Zach shrugged. “Sure.”

The scene on TV ended and a shampoo commercial came on. “You’ve gotta get rid of some of that energy, dude.”

Standing up, Chris walked to the dresser. He slid the drawer open and pulled out one slim, tightly rolled joint. Zach’s eyes lit up.

“Don’t get too excited. It’s the only one I have.”

Joining Chris in front of the dresser, Zach plucked the joint out of his fingers. “Will you smoke it with me?”

Chris considered for a moment. “One hit.”

Famous last words.

Zach kept passing the joint, and Chris kept smoking. It was good shit. They ordered room service and lied sideways across the bed laughing and talking. It was the lightest Zach had felt in a long time.

“That guy—Jake, Jason, whatshisface—“

“Jack.”

“That’s the one. He had the hots for you.”

“He was just a fan.”

“Yeah. A fan of dat ass.” Leaning over, Zach gave it a loud smack. “Truth be told, I’m a fan of dat ass, too. It’s so round and plump. Like a Georgia peach.” He gave Chris a lopsided smile.

“You’re stoned.”

“So are you.” Zach propped his head on one hand. “I want to kiss you right now.”

He and Chris hand’t done anything even remotely sexual since his attack. Sometimes Zach thought about it, but then he’d think of _them_ , and he wanted to throw up. He hardly even jerked off anymore. This close, though, he could see the tiny spaces between Chris’s eyelashes. The delicate hairs curled outward, long and dark like a girl’s. Zach had spent so much time staring into these eyes, but he’d never really considered how beautiful they were.

“So kiss me.”

Zach’s brain took a while to catch up with Chris’s words.

 

_Zach let out an_ oof _of surprise as Chris shoved him back against the wall. A second later Chris’s tongue was in his mouth, and Zach forgot how to think. Hands scrabbled at his belt buckle. Moaning, Zach hurried to help. The belt slipped free and he shoved his jeans down narrow hips. Chris’s pants followed, which allowed Zach to wrap their naked cocks in his left hand. Chris framed Zach’s cheeks in his long fingers. he lapped at Chris’s lips while his hips thrusted against Chris’s body. One after another, they came, rutting like teenagers._

_Panting, Zach pressed his forehead to Chris’s shoulder as he caught his breath._

 

As much as he wanted to, Zach couldn’t make himself do it. The inches between them felt like miles. One of Chris’s hands crept towards Zach’s face and instinctively he jerked backwards. Chris’s hand dropped like a dead thing between them.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Zach.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I won’t be mad if you want to go find someone else. I’m sure Karl would love to take you out.”

Chris’s eyes closed slowly like he was in pain. “I’m good right here.”

Heart thumping, Zach squirmed closer until he could rest his head on Chris’s broad chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @moitmiller if you want to come chat on Tumblr
> 
> Comment button to send me some love. <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I fucking hate these things,” he whispered into her ear like they were sharing an intimate secret. 
> 
> “You wanna play a game?” 
> 
> Zach quirked an eyebrow. 
> 
> “We could slip into a dark corner and start a rumor . . . “

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Naemi for the speedy beta on this one. I'm actually really pleased with how this chapter came out.
> 
> ALSO eternal thanks to everyone who has taken the time to comment on this fic. ♥ You guys really must know that your kind words mean the absolute world to me.

“One more lap?” Chris panted. 

“I’m about done,” Zach said in reply. He reached up to wipe the sweat out of his eyes. In spite of the chilly New Zealand morning, his t-shirt was soaked. He pumped his legs to the steady _puff puff_ of Chris’s breath, even as his own lungs protested for relief. Testing his limits made him feel alive. 

Together, they slowed to a stop at the front of the hotel. Zach bent over, resting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. 

“You gonna make it, old man?” Chris patted him on the back. 

Zach stood up and lifted his hands over his head. “I’m good. Just been a while since I worked out.” 

“It’s good for you. Clears your head, gets your endorphins pumping—” 

“Don’t. I know exactly what you’re doing. Just stop. I don’t need to be mothered. I only have Margo, and she’s back in Pittsburgh minding her own goddamn business.” He turned to walk back into the hotel, leaving Chris behind in confusion and guilt.

 

They did not speak again until they were on the set of a local talk show with Zoe between them like a barricade. 

“So, in this film, we see, without giving too much away, that the relationship between Kirk and Spock gets much stronger. Would you guys say you have that kind of relationship off-screen as well?”

Chris jumped on the question, which saved Zach the trouble of deflecting. “Definitely.” He gave the camera a Chris Pine smile so perfect it should have been trademarked. “We’re all really close as a cast. It’s not an act. We genuinely enjoy spending time together. We actually just had dinner at the home of our resident Kiwi, Karl Urban. Since he lives in Auckland, it just made sense. It’s funny because you’d think that being on tour together would make us want to be away from each other, but we don’t. We love spending time as a group. It’s like a family, really.” 

“You lot seem really close. Did any of you know each other before Star Trek?” 

Placing a hand on Chris’s knee, Zoe smiled at the host. “Zach and I knew each other through mutual friends. We met in . . . ” She looked at him for confirmation. “’99?” 

Zach nodded. 

“So we’ve known each other about ten years, now. Wow, has it really been that long?” She and Zach shared a chuckle. “We met right after I finished _Center Stage_ —that was my first motion picture. Chris and I met a few years later—I think a year before we signed on to do the first Trek film. I don’t know. It feels like we’ve all known each other forever.” 

“How about you two?” The host looked between Chris and Zach. “Did you know each other before this?” 

 

_The ‘Grimy Corp’ was little more than a name for their weekend group that met at Pat’s apartment. They’d run lines and cheer on whoever had an audition coming up. It was like a support group for wannabe actors._

_It was at one of these meetings that Zach met Chris for the first time. To Zach’s eyes, Chris was a mousey little nobody. A friend of a friend, freshly out of Berkeley._

_“These are the guys. Guys, this is Chris.”_

_Zach gave a cursory wave and went back to his script._

_It wasn’t until a couple weeks later that Chris asked for help with a script of his own. “You’ve got really great technique. I was hoping you could help me. I can’t seem to make this line sound right.”_

_Up close, Zach could see that Chris’s eyes were a deep crystal blue, not unlike the ocean in tropical locales. He wanted to drown in them._

 

Unintentionally, they answered at the same time: 

“We met through mutual friends.”  
“We had the same trainer.” 

A look passed between them as the host quirked an eyebrow. “Which is it? Did you meet through mutual friends or did you have the same trainer?” She looked way more interested in their first meeting than she should have. 

“Both,” Zach said with more force than necessary. “I met Chris through my trainer, and we all started working out together. Hollywood’s a small town.” 

The host seemed satisfied with the answer, and she moved on to more of her inane questions. Zach relaxed minutely into the cushion of the couch. Crisis averted. 

*

Chris blinked slowly into the mirror. He’d have to wear his glasses to the premiere tomorrow to give his eyes a break. Too many hours in his contacts and his eyes were itchy and burning. If it wouldn’t blind him, he’d take them out now. 

Sighing, Chris washed his hands again and left the bathroom. 

“We ordered another round,” Simon told him when he got back to the table. 

Though he was growing tired, Chris pulled the drink towards himself. 

“It’s too bad Zach decided not to come.” 

At the sound of the name, Chris stiffened with the glass halfway to his lips. “You do know he was attacked outside of a bar, right?” He couldn’t help the automatic compulsion to defend his friend. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t mean it like that. I never told anybody this but, I was actually . . . He asked me to meet him that night, but I was . . . I didn’t. I was out of town. But I just can’t shake the thought that if I’d been there . . . “ 

Ben’s warm hand touched his arm. “It’s not your fault. I don’t know if you need to hear that, but you were not the perpetrator of that heinous act.” 

Unable to control himself, Chris felt his eyes filling with tears. Great, now he’d definitely have to throw these contacts away. He wiped at his eyes hastily. “He’s one of my best friends, yet I feel like there’s nothing I can do to help him.” 

“I think you’re helping him plenty,” said Simon seriously. “He won’t talk to anyone else. At least not about what happened.” 

“It’s not the same.” Chris chewed his lip. No matter how many times he told himself, he just couldn’t believe that their relationship would never be the same. Some small part of him just kept hoping. 

*

Another premiere. More pictures. Another pill from Stephanie to slip under his tongue. 

Zach avoided the free champagne, but this time he agreed to go to one of the afterparties. He felt loose and relaxed, even without drinking, but he kept Chris and Zoe one either side of himself like shields. They circulated the room together, answering questions and taking party selfies. 

Despite the fact that it was winter in Auckland, several people were clustered outside on the balcony sucking down cigarettes. 

“Will you guys be okay if I step outside for a minute?” Chris asked. Itching for a smoke, his fingers twitched against the fabric of his trousers. 

“Of course.” 

Chris slinked away, and Zach slipped his arm around Zoe’s waist. “I fucking hate these things,” he whispered into her ear like they were sharing an intimate secret. 

“You wanna play a game?” 

Zach quirked an eyebrow. 

“We could slip into a dark corner and start a rumor . . . “

“Girl, you are bad. What will Marco say?” 

“That I shouldn’t encourage them. Besides, he trusts me, and he knows you’re gay. It will give us some privacy, at least. You want to?”

“I’m going to regret this.” 

Grinning, Zoe took Zach by the hand and led him to one of the many couches concealed in the shadows of the room. He sat down first, and then she perched delicately on his thighs. They’d sat like this plenty of times on set, frequently squeezing together into the spacious seat of the captain’s chair during breaks. Now, though, Zoe kept a careful distance between them. 

Zach placed one hand atop her bare knee. Leaning close, he whispered, “I’m ready to go home. Let’s hope someone’s taking pictures of this. I don’t want your good idea to go to waste.” 

“Impossible.” Zoe brushed a strand of hair off Zach’s forehead. “I love spending time with you. Oh! That reminds me. I’ve got to tell you what this reporter asked me on the red carpet.” Her fingers tightened on his forearm in her excitement. 

Zach froze. He braced himself for the terror, but it never came. Like he was having an out-of-body experience, Zach stared down at the hand on his arm. No sense of fear overwhelmed him. 

When Zoe continued her story, Zach started in surprise. 

“I’m sorry.” Realizing what she had done, Zoe jerked her hand away. 

Gently, Zach took her narrow wrist in his much larger hand. He threaded their fingers together and rested them in Zoe’s lap. “Tell me your story.” 

“Okay, so you know how there was sort of that bend in the walkway right before you got into the theatre?”

Zach nodded. 

“I was about to go in when this reporter—I don’t know— _ambushed_ me. There were cameras and people and fans everywhere, so I couldn’t be rude. And of course she gives me that b.s. line, 

“‘Ms. Saldana, just one question, please.’ So I stop, and I’m just standing there smiling, and she goes, ‘Is your dress made with cruelty-free fabric?’ 

“Zach, it was so absurd, I didn’t even know what to say. So I said, ‘I don’t know. I’m sorry, but I’m needed inside.’ 

“I walked into the theatre as fast as I could without seeming obvious. The first person I saw was Karl, so I grabbed him and asked him to save me from the reporters.” 

“It’s a necessary evil, but sometimes I just want to tell them all how I really feel. And then punch them in the mouth.” 

Looking out over the party crowd, Zoe let out a small huff of breath. “There’s Chris.” 

Zach followed her line of sight. 

Done with his smoke, Chris stood on the far side of the room chatting animatedly with a petite blonde. One of his hands pushed his glasses up his nose, and for a moment, he looked like a blonde Clark Kent. 

“I don’t care,” Zach said automatically. 

They sat in silence as the song playing melted into something more popular. 

“I love this song!” Zoe squealed. “Come dance with me.” Holding Zach’s hand, she hopped up and began to swivel her hips. 

“Zoe, you know I can’t dance.” 

“Just hold on to me and let me do all the work.” She spun around and hooked Zach’s hand over her shoulder. Giving his fingers a kiss, she said, “Just one dance.” 

With encouragement like that, he had no choice but to get up and follow. 

Watching Zoe’s hips sway effortlessly, Zach felt like he was at a high school dance again. “I don’t know where to put my hands.” 

“Right here.” Zoe put them on her narrow waist and danced into the circle of his arms. 

To Zach’s surprise, he found himself loosening up as he moved to Zoe’s rhythm. “You’re good at this.” 

“I’ve been dancing since I was three. Can you dip me?” 

Zach looked dubious. “What do I do?” He trusted her, and he knew she trusted him, but the last thing he wanted to do was spill her across the floor in her slinky red dress. 

“Put your hand here.” She moved it to the small of her back. “Don’t let go. And don’t drop me.” She lifted one knee, and a second later, she was arching backwards using Zach’s arm as a balance point. Her body righted itself just as smoothly as she’d bent back. 

“Wow” was all Zach could say. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but Marco is one lucky guy.” 

Giggling, Zoe performed a complicated spin before wrapping her arms back around Zach’s neck. “Marco’s not much of a dancer, either. Chris usually dances with me. Or Karl, when he’s had enough to drink. Actually, Anton’s a pretty good dancer, too.” 

“That kid’s good at everything.” 

A pair of arms encircling his waist made Zach stiffen in surprise. He would have jumped, screamed, had he not caught himself at the last second. Years of controlling his face, his voice kept him from embarrassing himself and Zoe. 

Voice low, he said calmly, “Get your fucking hands off me.” 

The arms released him, and Zoe took a step back. Zach spun around ready to fight, only to find that his assailant was a rather inebriated young man with a badge swinging from around his neck. 

“Sorry about that.” Another guy—early twenties, wire rimmed glasses—gave Zach an apologetic smile. “My friend had too much to drink.” 

“Yeah well, see that he doesn’t go around molesting the other guests of honor,” Zach snapped. 

He stared at them until they walked away. 

“Are you—”

“Don’t say it.” 

“Are you ready to go?” 

Zach’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling as they filled with tears. “Yes.” 

“Let me just grab my coat, and I’ll tell Chris we’re taking off.” 

Zoe steered him to an empty part of the room where he’d be able to wait for her in peace. At least he hoped. His eyes tracked her movements to the coat check and then across the room to where Chris was still standing with his mini Barbie. Though he couldn’t hear what they were saying, Zach could imagine the way the conversation was going. Chris’s face pinched in concern, and Zoe shook her head. 

_No, Chris,_ Zach thought, _I don’t need you riding over here on your white horse. Besides, Barbie will be heartbroken if you take away her Ken._

With a final nod and a kiss to his cheek—suck it up, Barbie—Zoe left Chris and returned to Zach. “Are you ready?”

“More than you know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is love. <3


	8. New Zealand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys take a trip to Hobbiton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who is still reading this fic. I love this bar so much. You guys make every word I put it on the page worth it, even if I don't say it enough.

Today was a rarity during the press junket: no interviews scheduled, no premieres to attend. They could do whatever they wanted. 

All Zach wanted to do was sleep. 

Until his idiot friends decided to pound on his hotel door. 

“What!” he shouted as he finally got up to stop the noise. “Jesus Christ, is there a fire? I’m coming!” 

Wearing only his boxer shorts and a t-shirt, Zach flung open the door. 

Crowded in tight like there wasn’t enough space for all of them stood Anton, John, and Chris. 

“About time, Sleeping Beauty,” said John. 

Zach rubbed his eyes. “What do you want? Make it quick so I can get back to bed.” 

“Oh, no,” Anton said, “you’re coming out with us today. We’re going to Hobbiton.” 

“Have fun. I’m not going.” He started to shut the door, but Chris stuck one booted foot out. 

“You promised.” 

 

_The last time they watched_ Lord of the Rings _together—not that they made a habit out of it—Chris had said, “Will you go to Hobbiton with me next time we’re in New Zealand?”_

_Zach’s hand stilled in Chris’s hair as he considered the question. “Yeah, we can do that. We’ll get Karl to take us.”_

_Like a big cat, Chris twisted around on the couch so he could see Zach. “You promise?”_

_“Yeah.” Zach pushed away the hair that had flopped onto Chris’s forehead. “I promise.”_

 

Now, Chris was staring at him with quiet intensity, making him regret that promise. 

“Where’s Karl?” Zach poked his head out the doorway like he’d find the Kiwi hiding behind the others. 

“Spending the day with his kids.” 

Of course. For a moment, Zach’s heart ached with that deep-seated desire for children of his own. Though, he could do without the ex-wife. 

“Fine. Give me fifteen minutes.” 

It took him twenty to get downstairs, but his friends were still waiting in their rental car. Part of Zach had hoped they’d have given up on him and left. 

“Took you long enough,” Anton said as Zach climbed into the backseat next to Chris. 

“I had to put my makeup on,” Zach muttered. “Can we make a coffee run before we leave town? How far is this place, anyway?” 

Anton twisted around in his seat to say, “About two and a half hours.” 

“And you’re in luck,” John added. “There’s a Starbucks around the corner.” 

“Thank the lord.” 

After a quick stop so Zach could caffeinate, John turned them onto the highway. 

The others chatted amiably. Lost in his thoughts, Zach stared out the window and sipped his coffee. 

Four years ago, Chris’s first trip to New Zealand had not been Zach’s first. Nevertheless, he tagged along as Chris dragged him all over the city of Auckland. They made love in as many places as they thought they could get away with. 

The most memorable of those instances was beneath the harbor bridge at dawn. They’d stayed out all night laughing and drinking and kissing. They had to catch a morning flight, but managed to watch the sunrise over the city from one of the best locations. 

That was the height of their relationship—the summer of 2009. Everything was passion and nothing hurt. Until Olivia came along. 

Zach shook his head, forcing the memory from his mind. 

“How about you, Zach?” Anton asked. He was again twisted around in his seat. 

“What about me?” 

“If you could work with anyone, living or dead, who would it be?”

Without pause, Zach said, “Ingmar Bergman.” 

Sage nods followed his words. Who could argue with that one? 

*

Just as the guide was about to turn them away because they hadn’t booked a tour in advance, she recognized Zach. “Weren’t you in Heroes?” 

“Yeah.” He nodded, somewhat relieved that she hadn’t cottoned onto to just who was standing in front of her. He would have been satisfied to get in the car and drive back to Auckland, but his friends had come all this way. 

_And you promised Chris_ , a little voice in his mind said. 

“Actually, I don’t know if you’re familiar with _Star Trek_ , but I’m here promoting the film with my friends. We leave for Japan tomorrow. I play Spock. This is Captain Kirk, Chekov, and Sulu.” 

And just like that, they were in. Of course, in exchange they had to pose for pictures with the staff. It was a small price to pay for Zach to see Chris’s eyes light up at the sight of the fully furnished Hobbit hole. Zach himself had never been especially taken by the _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy, but he understood the draw. He stood back, watching the others look their fill. 

Chris always came trotting back like an eager puppy looking for his master’s approval. “What do you think?” 

Zach crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s cool.” Truthfully, he thought it just looked like a hole in the ground. He’d seen the films. This was just another way to monetize the franchise’s success. 

Chris bumped his shoulder. “‘It’s cool’? That’s all you have to say? Zach, come on, we’re in New Zealand visiting _Hobbiton_ , and all you can say is ‘It’s cool’?” 

“I kept my promise to bring you here. If you’re happy, then I’m happy.” 

“Yeah, but I was just sort of hoping you’d get _something_ out of this trip.” 

“Doesn’t spending time with you count?” Chris’s pinkie finger twitched against Zach’s, and he was sure Chris would have taken his hand if they weren’t in public. 

*

Zach fell asleep on the way back. To his surprise, he didn’t wake up until Chris shook his shoulder. 

“Zach,” he called. “We’re at the hotel.” 

Groggy and more than a little disoriented, he climbed out of the car. “Have I really been asleep that long?”

“John and Anton headed up already. I just didn’t want to wake you.” 

Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Zach regarded Chris with confusion. How could he have slept so deeply in a _car_ of all places? Part of him wanted to crawl into bed and sleep the rest of the night away, but his stomach growled in disagreement. Other than the coffee, he hadn’t had much to eat. They had lunch in Hobbiton, but Zach barely picked at his salad. 

“You know what I’m really craving right now?”

“In-and-Out Burger?”

Zach had to laugh, considering they were about as far from In-and-Out as they could get. “No, I’m feeling some pizza and beer like we used to do before we hit it big. Just total carboloading. What do you say?” 

Chris grinned widely. “When have you ever known me to turn down an offer for pizza?” 

They ordered two pies and walked to the store around the block for a twelve-pack. An old John Wayne film was playing on the TV, and it added appropriate background noise to their evening. 

Stuffed full of grease and wheat, Zach lay horizontal across the bed with his head hanging off the edge. He’d eaten too much to be drunk, but he desperately needed to belch. 

“Chris,” he moaned. “I ate too much.” 

Propped in the chair next to the bed, Chris was in a similar state. “We should have learned our lesson last time we did this. It was your idea, you know. I blame you.” 

Zach managed to belch as he heaved his body into a sitting position. “Just like old times. I miss nights like this. Why don’t we do this anymore?” 

“All it took was beer and pizza? If I had known that …” Chris’s expression softened. “I don’t know. Probably something to do with jetting around the world promoting films. We’re just too busy these days.” 

“Come here.” Zach turned himself around and laid down again with his head on one of the pillows. 

Groaning, Chris dragged himself out of the chair and flopped down beside Zach. 

“Where are we going next?”

“Tonight? I don’t think I’m up for anything else. I can hardly move.” 

“No, I mean Japan, right?” 

“Japan.” Chris said the name slowly, drawing out the vowels. “It’s so different from the States. Actually, I love just about every Asian country we’ve been to.” 

“You have an Asian fetish, honey. There’s a difference between the culture and the schoolgirls.” 

Chris’s ears turned pink, but he didn’t deny it. 

Blindly, Zach reached over to pat him on the belly. 

“Oh!” Chris curled himself into a ball and rolled onto his side. “Don’t do that. I told you I ate too much.” 

“Do you think the fans will say something? In Japan? They’re a bit more…vocal than the western ones. How that even makes sense, I don’t know. They just have a different set of boundary lines, I guess.” 

Chris didn’t have to ask what he was talking about. “I don’t think so. Some of them are a little…intense, but ultimately they mean well, right? Plus, you have Stephanie. Let her do her job. If things get heavy, pass it off to her and get out of there.” 

“I just feel bad. Especially if it’s a fan.” 

“Zach. What’s more important? One fan’s experience because of their poor judgement or your mental health? You can’t be everything for everyone.” 

He had a hard time internalizing that one. Unintentionally, Chris had hit a nerve. 

“I think I’m gonna go call my mom.” 

“Right now?”

“It’s just after seven in Pittsburgh. She’ll be awake. Just give me like ten minutes. I won’t be long.” Ignoring the ache in his belly, Zach rolled off the bed and stepped onto the balcony to make his call. 

“Well, good morning!” his mom said as she answered. 

“It’s almost midnight here, but good morning to you too. Did you just get up?”

“I’ve been up for a little while. Puttering around the house. I can’t sleep very late anymore. How are you? What country are you in?” 

“New Zealand. We’re headed to Japan tomorrow. Chris and I are hanging out in my hotel room. We ordered pizza.” 

“That sounds like fun. Send me some pictures. I hate Googling you.” Once, that meant she shouldn’t have to get news about her son from the Internet. Now, though, she was afraid of searching his name for fear of seeing something deeply unpleasant. 

“We went to Hobbiton today. I’ll send you some pictures of that.” Oddly, Zach wished he had a phone cord to wrap around his fingers while he talked. 

“Hobbiton? That’s a city in New Zealand?” 

“No, Ma, it’s a permanent film set from _Lord of the Rings_.” 

“Oh. Well, did you and the boys have fun?”

“Yeah. It was nice.”

“Good. Have you talked to your brother lately?”

“No. Not since I left the States. Why? Is everything okay?”

“As far as I know. I hardly ever hear from you boys, anymore. Are you taking care of yourself, Zachary?” 

He didn’t want to lie to his mother, but he also didn’t want her to worry, especially when he was halfway around the world. “I’ve got Stephanie and Chris. They’re taking care of me.” Not a total lie. “All right, Ma. I better get off here. It’s late, and I left Chris alone.” 

“Of course. Don’t let me keep you. Thanks for calling, baby. I love you.”

“Love you too, Ma.”

Back inside the hotel room, Chris was half-asleep with his legs curled up to his chest. He looked like he hadn’t moved since Zach stepped out. His eyes were open, but he didn’t seem to be watching the cooking show on TV. 

“How’s your mom?”

“Good. What are you watching?”

“MasterChef New Zealand. Not as good as the American version, but that’s the way it goes, I guess.” Chris pushed himself into a sitting position. “I take it you’re not tired yet? Spent too much time sleeping in the car.” 

“For your information, I had intended to sleep all day until _somebody_ woke me up.” 

“You had fun today. Don’t deny it.” 

“Yeah,” Zach agreed. “I did.” He climbed back onto the bed and stretched out next to Chris. MasterChef wasn’t so bad. It beat the hell out of screaming fans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Tumblr [@moitmiller](moitmiller.tumblr.com).


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